


Just Push Play

by Slimslash, without_me



Category: BSB, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: AU, College, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slimslash/pseuds/Slimslash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/without_me/pseuds/without_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The college porn AU. Lance and JC are uniquely talented in any universe. Originally posted March 14, 2003.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Push Play

"C'mon, Joe." Lance leans back in his chair, idly stroking a fingertip through the condensation on his glass of tea. "Help a brother out, here." 

He asks out of habit, really. They've been around this block a dozen times before, and he knows all Joey's arguments before they're voiced. But it's a never-ending problem for him, so he keeps hoping. 

The only difficult thing about his business is finding talent. What he's doing is legal--he made sure of that; the last thing he wants is to spend all his profits on bail money. But he has to be careful, still. Somehow he doesn't think the dean would approve of his _hands-on_ experiment in capitalism. So he can't just go advertising in the school newspaper. Besides which, there are plenty of bigots in this town, and hospital would be right behind jail on the list of places he doesn't want to end up. 

Flyers in the local independent bookstore worked pretty well for a while, but customers want new faces. ("Faces, right," he thinks.) The nearest gay club is up in Memphis; he could probably get some action from there--in more ways than one--but if people have to drive too far, he has to raise their rates, and that cuts into profit. He could do some remote setup, but that's just encouraging people to go into business for themselves, and while competition may be inevitable, why _invite_ it? 

Joey glances up to make sure nobody in the café is within earshot. "Lance, dude, if you want to see my jewels, all you have to do is ask." 

Lance smiles dutifully. "It's easy money. You could get that new amp. Or take Kelly out for a nice dinner." 

"Oh, that's a good idea. Yeah, Kel, enjoy your steak, I paid for it with spunk." 

Lance can't help laughing. "Hey, she might get off on the idea. Speaking of which..." 

"Oh, do _not_ even go there, Bass." 

It's okay. Lance doesn't have any interest in branching out into straight porn. It just feels sleazier, somehow. Besides which, he doesn't have a whole lot of interest in watching girls touch themselves. 

"You need to get out of this hick town, man. Go to New Orleans or something. There'd be plenty of guys there who'd be interested." 

Lance knows Joey's right. But he doesn't want to quit college, not for this. The money's good, but it's not what he wants to do forever. "Fine, if you still insist on turning down a good thing... What about your friends? Anyone new in theatre arts this year who might be a possibility?" 

Joey purses his lips. "Actually, yeah," he says after a moment. "Might be. I mean, I haven't talked with anyone about it, but there are some good-looking guys, a couple of freshmen and one junior, community college transfer. They're not as good-looking as me, of course." 

"Of course." 

"But they probably wouldn't break your camera." 

*** 

It may not be the kind of thing he can tell his parents about, but it's a living. 

Hey, it's better than that. The Rotary Club stipend was barely enough when he was living in the dorms--and one semester there was _way_ more than enough. Now, though, he actually feels guilty for taking the money his mom sends him every term to _have a little fun, honey_. He'd tell her to stop, but then he'd have to come up with an explanation of how his "job at the bookstore" happens to pay so well, and while he's damn good at fast-talking, he thinks that one might be a bit of a stretch, even for him. 

Anyway, he figures his folks will win out in the end. At least he won't be one of those losers who ends up moving back home at 25, divorced and broke, sponging off Mom and Dad for the rest of their lives. Heck, if things go well--and he doesn't see any reason why they shouldn't--he'll be able to help with their retirement. Hopefully by then he'll have a better cover story worked out for how he managed to save so much during college. 

For now, though, he has no complaints. His apartment is in a nice section of town, not far from campus but outside the usual rundown student area. It's a security building, with a pool and a weight room, and he has a spare bedroom to use as his "office." As an extra bonus, with a few changes he figures he'll be able to use his business model and records for at least one major class assignment. 

Plus, of course, he gets to watch attractive guys jack off anytime he wants, no charge. Business, Lance thinks, is very good. 

*** 

Lance reaches the student union with time to spare. Meeting prospective talent is the only part of the business that still makes him nervous. He doesn't really think anyone Joey hangs out with would go mental at the mere suggestion that he might want to get naked for a camera, but people are hard to predict. 

He hears Joey before he sees him. "I sailed away on that little boat to heaven, and by some chance found a bottle in my fist..." 

Then another voice harmonizes with Joey's, a little higher. "And there I stood, nicely passin' out the whisky, but the passengers were bound to resist..." 

Joey and JC grin when they see Lance shaking his head at them, but they keep singing, finishing out the chorus with "Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, you're rockin' the boat," before bowing to a light scattering of amused applause from the few other people nearby. 

JC's definitely good-looking. Wavy brown hair cut pretty short, but falling in his face a little. Nice eyes. Skinny, kind of a big nose, but he's got a goofy charm that Lance thinks might sell. Not just another twink, though Lance wouldn't say no to a few more of those, either. 

Lance stands as they approach his table, and after he and Joey say their hellos he reaches to shake JC's hand. "Hey, I'm Lance. You must be JC. Nice voice." 

"Hey, Lance." JC smiles, and somehow his face seems to light up and come alive. _Whoa._ If that comes through on camera, this guy could really be something special. 

It's after 3 on a Friday afternoon, and the lunch crowd is long gone, so they sit down to talk right there in the student union. 

"So, you're a transfer student?" Lance asks as JC stows his backpack under the table. 

"Yeah," JC nods. "I did my first two years at a community college back home, to save money. This is my first semester here." 

"How do you like Oxford so far?" 

JC seems natural, at ease, when he answers, and the three of them chat for a few minutes about his first impressions of the campus and the town. Lance usually tries to warm up with some innocuous conversation before getting down to business, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't actually interested in finding out more about JC. Lance likes how he moves his hands when he talks, and the way his eyes crinkle shut when he laughs at one of Joey's jokes. _Nice._

Lance doesn't even realize he's still admiring the view until JC clears his throat. "So, um, Joey says you've got a business?" 

"Yeah, that's right." Lance glances at Joey. "Joe, would you excuse us?" Joey's already halfway out of his seat--Lance is a stickler for confidentiality, and they've done this a time or two before--but JC reaches out a hand. 

"No, um--I mean, if it's okay with you, it's cool with me if he stays." 

Lance shrugs. "It's up to you." Taking a breath, he launches into his spiel. "So. I run a male modeling business, using local models and actors. I look for attractive guys who want to make a little extra money. I was wondering if you might be interested. Because, if you don't mind my saying so, you definitely have the look I'm after." 

JC nods, but his expression is wary. "What, uh, what kind of modeling are we talking about, here?" 

Lance looks him square in the face, keeping eye contact. _Never let them doubt the sincerity of your interest_ , he reminds himself, _and don't make a big deal out of it_. "It's erotica. It's nothing illegal or anything like that, just your basic video camera and blank bedroom setup. Nothing with anyone else, just solo stuff." 

JC's eyes open wide and he looks like he might bolt for a second, until Joey speaks up. "A lot of guys around here have done it, JC. The money's pretty good." JC calms down a little at that, and looks over at Joey. 

"Have _you_ done it?" he asks pointedly. 

Joey smiles and waves a hand. "Nah... Kelly wouldn't go for it." He grins. "She's possessive that way." 

JC eyes him for a few seconds, then nods and turns his attention back to Lance. "So you're talking about... what? Just getting naked? Or, like, more than that? And how much does it pay?" 

Lance allows himself to relax. Once they start asking about the money, the hardest part is over. "Basically, it's $300 a session. Most people do one session, that's about an hour or so, and then depending on how it goes, you might have the option to come back for a second one." 

By the way JC raises his eyebrows, Lance knows he's thinking about the cash. Lance doesn't mention the possibility of more than two sessions, but the truth is his best guys usually do three. Almost a thousand dollars for them, and a lot more for him. Of course, he doesn't want that many guys to come back a third time. It's only the ones who get a great response the first two times, the ones members request by name. 

He has a feeling JC could be one of those guys. 

"And I'd have to..." 

Lance smiles reassuringly as he answers. "It's the easiest thing in the world. Like I said, it's purely solo stuff, no couples or anything, nobody else in the room but you--and me, of course, just to work the camera. No surprises, no pressure. Everything happens at your own pace. You undress, then you just make yourself feel good. Everyone knows how to do that." 

He can see JC thinking it through. "What about the videos? What do you do with them?" 

"They're accessible to paid members through a secure website. No images of your face are used in any promotional material that might be seen by non-members. The copyright for all the taped sessions resides with me." 

It seems like a long time before JC looks up from the table. He nods again. "I, um. Okay, I'll have to think about this. But, yeah. Maybe." He shakes his head, laughing a little. "Joe, I'm not sure I should be flattered that you thought of me for something like this. But, um," back to Lance, "do you have, you know, a card or something? So if I... I can call you?" 

Lance smiles, reaching for his wallet. "Of course." He slides a card toward JC. "Take your time, think it over. If you want to come by and see the setup, just give me a call. And even if you don't," never act _too_ eager, "I'm glad to have met you. If you and Joe are friends, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other. You a theatre arts major too?" 

"No--not exactly, I mean, music, yeah. So I cross over some. I think I'm gonna be in _Guys and Dolls_ this semester, with Joey. Like you probably guessed. But, y'know." He grins, raising one eyebrow. "I don't guess you demand a whole lot of acting skill, huh?" 

It's impossible not to smile back at him. "Well, you've gotta look like you're enjoying yourself. But that shouldn't take too much effort, right? I mean, you wouldn't be doing anything that doesn't... come naturally. If you'll forgive the pun." 

Joey groans indulgently, and JC shakes his head, rolling his eyes--but he's still smiling. 

"No Shakespeare," Lance continues, "no memorizing lines. You don't have to say anything at all if you don't want to. Just, y'know. Do what you like." 

JC nods. "Okay. Like I said, I'll, um. Think about it." He pockets the card. "I should probably get going, then. It was nice to meet you, Lance." 

Lance stands to shake JC's hand. "My pleasure," he says. "I'll hope to hear from you, JC." 

Lance sits back down, still watching as JC wends his way toward the exit. 

"Nice, huh?" Joey waggles his eyebrows. 

Lance considers playing coy, but Joey's known him too long; better to get the teasing over with. "Yeah," he admits. "He's really... he's single?" 

Joey laughs. "Man, breakin' your rules already? Whatever happened to _hands off the talent_?" 

"Well, he's not talent yet. He might not decide to do it." 

Besides, rules were made to be broken. 

*** 

Even when he's talking to people who know each other--maybe particularly then--Lance always tries to meet potential models individually. He doesn't need one guy wigging out and taking another possible along with him--and he doesn't want anyone saying yes out of some macho don't-back-down thing, either. So he always schedules way too much time in between, just in case. 

Things went quickly enough with JC that there's almost half an hour left before the next appointment, but passing time with Joey's never a problem. Lance listens to the latest chapter of on-again-with-Kelly, and they discuss the football team's prospects for the season, and then a gangly guy in a House of Blues New Orleans tee is striding up to the table, slapping Joey on the shoulder and extending a hand. "Hi, you must be Lance. I'm Justin. Joey told me a little about your business, and I'm totally your man." 

Justin is all that, and judging from his body language, he knows it. Well, what was that Lance was thinking earlier about twinks? Highlighted blond hair, bright blue eyes, red lips--yeah, he could work. Justin's clothes don't tell Lance much about the body underneath, but he's slim for sure, and the arms look promising. Plus, this kid shows none of the hesitation JC did. 

Kid, though. Joey'd said he was a freshman. So the first words out of Lance's mouth after they get seated are, "How old are you, Justin?" No sense wasting time. 

The blue eyes blink, once, then hold Lance's gaze. "Eighteen." 

"Really." Lance raises one eyebrow. "You got ID that says that?" 

Justin's grin fades. "Um. Not _on_ me..." 

Lance nods. "Okay. For real. How old are you?" 

Justin hesitates, his lips pursing, pouting. Oh, yeah. He could work, Lance thinks. Finally, "Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in January, though, and c'mon, man, I never even get carded anymore..." 

Lance doesn't believe that for a minute. But in any case it's irrelevant. "I'm sorry, Justin. If you're still interested come January, we can talk then." 

"Dude, that's months away. I need the money now! Nobody'd have to know..." 

"Justin." Lance keeps his voice low. "Let me make this very clear. I am _not_. Going. To jail. For kiddie porn." 

"I'm not a kid!" Justin looks half-wounded, half-insulted. 

Lance rolls his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. But the law says eighteen, so I say eighteen. Not 'looks like eighteen' or 'wishes he were eighteen' or 'gee, Your Honor, he _said_ he was eighteen.' Eighteen." 

Justin slumps in his chair. "Man. What a hard-ass." 

Lance shrugs. "Sorry." 

Justin keeps the hangdog look for another moment, and Lance is starting to beam death rays at Joey for getting him into this. Then, with a blink, Justin sits up again and his cocky grin is back. "Well, okay. I can keep working at the coffee house a while longer if I have to. Or date guys with money." He bats his eyelashes at Lance, tilting his head a little, and Lance looks appraisingly back. The kid is hot, and Lance _doesn't_ card his dates, but still, he doesn't feel the same pull to break the rules that he did with JC. "And then in January everything'll be cool," Justin continues. "Joey said $500 a session, right? And I can do a couple a week, easy--young and willing, y'know." 

Lance _looks_ at Joey, but Joey's laughing, holding his hands up. "Time out. I said nothing about $500, J, and you know it." 

Justin sighs ostentatiously. "Geez. Just tryin' to put a premium value on the merchandise, is that a crime?" 

Now Lance can't help laughing. This kid is going to be a handful, for sure, but he's got balls, and if he can keep this playful attitude while the camera's running, he could be really popular. "We'll talk money when you're old enough to vote," he says. "In the meantime, don't spill too many lattes while you're looking for those sugar daddies." 

"I don't spill." Justin grins. "Unless I think it'll get me somewhere." 

*** 

It's Tuesday when Lance turns his phone on after class and finds a voicemail from JC. "Yeah, um, it's JC, Joey's friend." As if Lance might have forgotten, or met twenty other JCs over the weekend or something. "So, yeah. I guess... I guess I'd like to set up an appointment. If you're still interested. I mean, I'm not sure I--but I think I'd like to, y'know, give it a try--" There's a pause on the line. "Anyway, you can call me. If you want? Great. Bye." Another pause. "Oh! Sorry. My number..." Lance jots the digits down, grateful he won't have to call Joey to ask. 

JC's just as nervous when Lance calls him back, but a few minutes later the time is set--Thursday afternoon, after Lance's last class and JC's voice lesson. Lance feels a spark of excitement as he hangs up. 

He shakes his head and reminds himself, _hands off the talent_. He's been doing this for the better part of two years, and so far it hasn't been that difficult to stick to that rule. He's dated a couple of guys, sure, but only casually, and only after their last sessions. Mostly, it's just business, and the last thing he needs is to mix it with his personal life. He doesn't really like the guys he dates to figure out how much money he has, and it's easier to keep that from happening if he dates people who don't know about what he does outside of school. 

Still, he's willing to make an exception, in special circumstances. 

*** 

For the first time since he can remember, Lance has trouble concentrating in his classes on Thursday. He jiggles his knees under the desk and checks his watch every five minutes through accounting. 

He stops on the way home to pick up a new storage disc for his video camera. Back at his apartment, he checks that the batteries are charged up and the spare room is ready. Clean sheets on the bed, of course--he always changes them right after a session. Lights working, thermostat up a little so JC won't be cold. Lotion and lube on the nightstand, along with Kleenex and a hand towel. Lance gets a set of blank release papers out and puts them on the dining room table. 

Right on time, the intercom beeps and Lance buzzes JC into the building. He laughs at himself as he shifts from foot to foot, waiting for JC to come up in the elevator. _Calm down, dork,_ he thinks. _He's got nothing you haven't seen a hundred times before._

And then JC's there, in his living room. In jeans and a T-shirt, he looks every bit an average college student, although certainly a little better looking than average. Lance smiles in welcome and puts out his hand. "Hey, JC, I'm really glad you decided to give this a try." 

JC shakes his hand and grins apprehensively. "What've I got to lose, right? I just... I'm a little nervous." 

Lance leads him over to the dining alcove. "I understand. And I'll do everything I can to put you at ease. Okay?" He gestures at a chair and JC sits down at the table. "I have some papers here for you to sign, release documents for the video. It's all spelled out here, how it'll be used. I can make you a copy of the papers too, if you like." 

JC nods and starts skimming the contract. Lance walks into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. When he comes back, JC's signing the papers. 

"Thirsty?" Lance sets one bottle down on the table as JC finishes. 

"Thanks, man. I always carry water with me, but I forgot to refill my bottle after my voice lesson." JC uncaps the bottle and begins to drink, head tilted back, throat working. 

Lance makes himself look away. 

JC drinks half the water, then wipes his mouth on his hand. "You've got a nice place here," he comments, looking around the living room. An overstuffed couch faces Lance's entertainment center, and late afternoon light pours in through the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. "So, do you just, you know... right here?" 

Lance smiles. "No, I have an extra bedroom. You ready?" He takes his water and walks towards the hallway. 

JC follows, chuckling nervously. "As ready as I'll ever be." 

*** 

It's stupid--how many times has he done this?--but Lance isn't sure who's more nervous. He fiddles with the camera as JC looks around the room. 

After a minute Lance turns around. "Okay, like I said last week, this is all about you. You set the pace, you do whatever you're comfortable with. The only thing you have to do to satisfy the contract is get hard and come." 

JC blushes and nods, looks warily at the camera. "Should I get undressed or do you want to start taping first?" 

"It's completely up to you." 

"Um. Okay, I guess I'll just strip first." 

Lance stands across the room, a non-threatening distance away, as JC pulls his tee over his head, dropping it on a chair. 

Oh, yeah. JC's whipcord-thin, but all muscle. Not in a gym-bunny way, just very natural-looking. _Well, what everyone wishes nature had given them_ , Lance thinks. He works out every day and he'll never have abs like that. JC pauses a moment, thumb on the top button of his fly, then gives a little shrug and keeps going, shimmying jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion. 

"Um," JC says again. He wants to fig-leaf himself, that's obvious from his posture, but he doesn't, just stands with his hands in loose fists at his sides. 

Lance clears his throat. He could all too easily just stand and stare, and that's not what they're here for. "You've got a great body," he says, trying to relax JC a little. "Do you work out a lot?" 

JC jumps at Lance's words. "Sorry," he says. "Um. No. I mean, I..." There's that blush again. Very pretty. "I dance. For coordination, is why I started. I kinda, I used to be pretty clumsy, y'know? And it's good exercise, too. I like it." 

Lance nods. "I bet you're good at it." That gets a small smile. 

"Well, I guess I should..." JC takes a step toward the bed, and Lance tries to look encouraging. "So, just--" 

"Whatever you like," Lance assures him. "You don't have to pretend, or act out some made-up scene; just do what feels good. And it's okay," he adds, "I mean, it's normal that you're nervous at first, if it takes you a little while to, y'know, get going." This part is easy; he's said these words dozens of times. "Don't be embarrassed; take your time. If it's okay with you, I'll start the camera running, and then you can just forget I'm here, don't worry about anything but yourself." 

"Okay." JC giggles briefly, nervously, but he sits down on the bed, smiling as he slides a hand over the sheets. "Nice," he says. "I wish my sheets were this soft." 

"I want you to be comfortable," Lance replies, adjusting the camera slightly. 

Another quick laugh. JC lies down, a little tentatively, propping himself up on two of the pillows. He's blushing pink all over now. "This is really kind of weird." 

"You can stop," Lance says, as he always does when a new actor's hesitant, though he's praying that JC won't bolt on him. "I don't want you to do anything you're not sure about." 

"No, no," JC says. "I mean. I thought about it, I want to. I just." He takes a breath, then seems to settle into himself a little. "I'll be okay." He looks up at the camera for a second, gives a fleeting smile. Turning toward the nightstand, he tests a dab of the lotion on his hand, sniffing. 

"It's unscented," Lance says. "And hypoallergenic, and all that." 

JC nods, rubbing his fingers together. "Nice." He pumps some more into his palm, then sits back against the pillows, closing his eyes. "Okay. Here goes." 

He's not hard, of course. Not at first. That's okay. Lance focuses the camera so it can take in JC's whole body, lean limbs against the paler sheets. JC warms the lotion in his hand a moment, then wraps his fingers around his soft cock, squeezing gently, rubbing. After a few seconds there's a soft sigh, and JC's other hand comes up, smoothing over his belly and higher, fingertips skating over one flat nipple, circling there. 

JC's cock is starting to respond, not hard by any means, but filling, a little larger with each movement of his hand. He brings a thumb to his mouth and licks, then goes back to stroking his nipples, one then the other, his back arching in response to the stimulation. JC's body shudders slightly, the head of his cock appearing from within the circle of his fingers, and Lance bites his lip, feeling his own cock pulse fuller. He shifts subtly, trying to adjust himself in his pants without breaking JC's concentration. Distracting JC is the last thing he wants to do. Because JC's spellbinding. 

Lance finds himself forgetting to blink. All JC's nervousness of a few minutes ago is gone. He's not sneaking looks at the camera, not chattering uncomfortably. He's completely inside his head, unaware--as far as Lance can tell--of his surroundings. He's stroking himself rhythmically now, his cock dark and glistening with the thin film of lotion, while his other hand teases his nipples, first caressing, then pinching. He makes a soft sound, deep in his throat, and shifts lower on the bed, spreading his legs slightly. Biting his lower lip, he scratches his fingernails down the center of his chest, leaving a trail of red stripes as he reaches lower, cupping his balls. 

Now his mouth opens, dragging in air, his head turning on the pillow. Right hand working himself, long slim fingers sliding slickly down his length and back up, thumb circling the head where moisture has started to pearl. The other hand tugging at his balls, gentle pressure, and it's like Lance can feel the touch on _his_ body. _This is going to be so popular_ , he tells himself, trying to get himself back in business mode, but he doesn't try very hard. He's the only one who'll ever get to have seen this live. He might as well enjoy it. 

JC keeps working himself, one hand on his dick, the other on his balls. As he gets into it more, he lifts a knee from the mattress and his back arches. Lance notices it's the far leg, so the view's not obscured, and wonders whether JC realizes it. Maybe he's a natural. Or maybe it's just luck. 

JC's hands are moving faster now, his breath coming in pants, laced with the hint of a moan. Normally at this point Lance would shift focus, give the customers a close-up of the guy's cock to make the money shot that much more impressive, but JC's expression is too good to lose, and the way his whole body reacts to his arousal, the way his muscles shift, his belly tensing, thighs taut--it'll be different than the usual stuff, but Lance doesn't think he'll get any complaints. Oh no. 

The orgasm seems to hit JC without warning. His head snaps back and he groans long and low as he shoots, body arched up, white spatters zigzagging over his stomach and chest. He strokes himself once more, shivering, then sags back into the mattress. 

JC lies there for a few seconds, breathing hard, and then Lance can see him come back, realizing where he is, what he's done. His eyes squeeze closed a moment, then open. "Um," he says, his voice seeming to catch in his throat. 

Lance clears his throat softly and turns the camera off. The blood is hammering in his ears, but he makes himself speak normally. "There's Kleenex and a towel on the nightstand," he says. "And you're welcome to use the bathroom if you want." He gestures toward the hallway. "I'll give you some privacy." He doesn't want to leave, but it's the right thing to do. JC's done what Lance is paying him for. Staying to watch him dress would be wrong. Besides, it's got to be pretty damn obvious how turned on Lance is, and again, that's not part of the deal. He doesn't want JC to feel like this was all some weird setup. Lance doesn't pay for sex. 

As he takes a step toward the door, he hears a soft voice behind him. "I'm sorry," JC says. "Was that... was that not what you wanted?" 

Lance turns. " _What?_ " But looking at JC, he realizes it was an honest question. JC looks... not quite scared, but definitely uncertain. He's got the towel in his hands, covering himself now that everything's over. Lance can't help laughing, just for a second. He shakes his head. "JC..." He tries to figure out what to say. "That was amazing," he finally manages. "I want--if we can make another appointment before you leave, I don't even have to watch the tape to know, I want you back. You were... really, really hot." 

The corners of JC's mouth turn up, just for a second. "Really?" His body is still flushed, but Lance thinks he's blushing. 

"Really." Lance hesitates a moment, but hell, it's a compliment, right? "I do a lot of these--filming, I mean--and honestly, most of them don't do anything for me. But that... you're really sexy, JC. Very hot." 

JC's eyes widen just a fraction and he ducks his head, a smile at his lips. "Uh. Thanks," he murmurs, almost shyly, and for a second Lance thinks JC's looking at... _Is he--does he want--_

Lance hears warning bells clanging in his head and fumbles for the doorknob. "Yeah. Um, take your time. I'll be out here when you're dressed." He makes an ungraceful exit, then stands a moment in the hallway, uncapping his water and nearly draining the bottle. "Jesus," he whispers when he finishes drinking. He needs more than a bottle of water--more like a cold shower. He adjusts himself in his khakis, and then shakes his head at himself as he makes his way back out to the living room. 

_Calm down, dork_ , he chides himself. _It's business, remember._ It wasn't a lie, what he said to JC. Usually when he's taping, he can tell something's hot without actually getting into it. But God. There's something different about JC. 

After a moment he hears the bedroom door open and close and the water running, and a few minutes later JC steps tentatively back into the living room, dressed and a little flushed. Lance has himself under control now, and sits on the couch with an envelope ready and his planner out. 

"Here's your money, man. And again, thanks for giving it a try. You really--well, that was really something." 

JC grins, a quick flash of a smile, and takes the envelope. "You sure you don't say that to all the guys?" 

It's said lightly, probably a joke, but Lance answers with sincerity. "Pretty sure. I don't even ask most people back for a second session, and certainly not before I watch the tape and get some other reactions to it. What do you think? Are you interested?" 

JC looks inside the envelope and raises his eyebrows. "Uh. Yeah, I think I am." He sits down on the other end of the couch and looks over at Lance. "I guess, you know, you said a session was, like, an hour or so? I don't think I--it took me shorter than that, right? More like, what, 20 minutes?" 

Lance shrugs. "It was a little longer than that, I think. But I pay you by the session, not by the hour. You definitely met the requirements." Lance looks him in the eye. "It was hot, JC. It's exactly what I was looking for." 

JC looks down. "I could maybe, you know, go longer. If you want. I mean, this time, I was kinda, I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it, you know? So I maybe--not hurried, really, but didn't try to take longer, either. Next time, though, I could probably--" 

Lance's belly flip-flops and his hard-won business demeanor slips away. _Longer?_ He wonders if he'll be able to live through it. "That'd, uh, that'd be great. If you want." The image of JC writhing on the bed flashes before his eyes again, and he nods. Swallows hard, before he can speak again. "Yeah. And, you know, there are bonuses for... special stuff." 

"Yeah?" JC sounds curious. "Like what?" 

"Well, like going a long time, or going twice in one session, or, uh, using a prop. That kind of stuff." 

"A prop? You mean, like--a dildo?" JC blushes furiously. 

"Yeah, usually, something like that." Lance watches JC consider the idea. 

"Well, I've never actually... I mean. Huh. But then, I've never done anything like this in front of someone--y'know, someone I didn't know--before today, and I guess I did okay with that." He steals a glance at Lance. "I'll think about it." 

"You did great today. I'd say you seemed like a natural, if I wasn't worried you might take it the wrong way," Lance jokes. 

JC laughs a little and smiles down at his hands. "Well, thanks." He doesn't seem put out, Lance notes. "When should I come back?" 

*** 

By the time JC leaves, Lance's arousal has faded enough that he can get up to walk him to the door without discomfort. Their next appointment is set for Tuesday. 

He goes back to the guest room to clean up, but before he starts to change the sheets, he hooks the camera up to the TV in the corner. Normally, he'd put the laundry in first, but this has the potential to be so good, he can hardly wait to see how it looks on film. He knows from experience, even the best-looking guys don't always come across as well on video as in person. Especially in their first session. He doesn't think that's going to be a problem for JC, but he needs to be sure. 

As the screen flickers to life, he sits down on the corner of the bed to watch. JC comes into view, naked, shifting into position on the bed, and Lance catches his breath. Then JC looks directly into the camera and smiles for a split second, and Lance freezes. Oh, _shit._

It's amazing. Lance can't think anything but that. Amazing, amazing. He knew it was hot when he was watching it in person, but it's like the tape captured even more, a kind of secret vulnerability that he didn't feel when JC was in the room. And Lance knows that at the deepest level, it's that intangible quality that makes good porn. This is probably the best video he's ever made for his site. 

He doesn't want to--he didn't plan to--but when JC starts touching himself, Lance's fingers go to his own nipples in response. From there it's inevitable. He cups himself through his pants at first, but that's not enough. _God._ He feels helpless as he watches, wanting to touch, to taste. He unzips so he can ease his hand inside, eyes glued to the screen. 

His shorts are damp, a reminder that he's seen this show once already today. Without stopping to think too hard about it, he shucks them and his khakis the rest of the way off, sliding over on the bed to get a better view of the monitor. On the screen, JC's pinching one nipple between thumb and forefinger, pulling and rolling, and Lance's shirt comes off as well. 

He knows without looking where the lotion is on the nightstand; reaches out blindly and presses some into his palm. When it's warm, he wraps his fingers around the thick weight of his cock, feeling the shaft harden even more. On the TV, JC makes a soft sound, and Lance becomes aware of the sheet under his bare skin, smooth cotton that just a little while ago was damp with JC's sweat. 

He never does this. Has never done this. He pulls a pillow toward him, raising it to his face, and Jesus, he's got it bad. The pillow smells of citrus--not as strong as after-shave; shampoo, most likely, or hair gel. Lance breathes it in, barely resisting the urge to open his mouth and lick, suck the fabric in and roll it between his teeth. His eyes are still focused on the monitor, where JC's hips are rocking up into his hand, the head of his cock dark and slick. Lance's hand matches JC's rhythm, faster now, and he can taste JC's scent in his throat. 

He's watching JC, wanting him, wanting the image on the screen and wanting the real thing as well, and at the same time in his head he can see himself standing behind the camera, watching JC and watching himself now, and it's all like some voyeuristic kaleidoscope that probably should bother him on some level, but right now it's just hot. Lance watches JC's body quiver, watches him draw the pleasure out of himself and offer it to the viewer. Lance strokes himself harder, squeezing. He's going too fast--he knows how long JC took, and he's not going to last that long--but he can't help it. 

Lance closes his eyes as he comes, the sensation jolting through him, but he can still see JC, head thrown back and teeth bared. As he pumps himself one last time he hears JC's low, breathy moans, and his body shudders again, sparks igniting under his skin. 

When he opens his eyes again, the tape is still running, JC's hands moving urgently on himself. Lance reaches out, a little shakily, to hit the remote, realizing just in time that he'd better wipe his hands first. 

He wads Kleenex in his hands, then turns off the TV. He sits a moment in silence, appalled at what he just did. And at the same time, he can't deny that it was the best orgasm he's had in a while. 

It's not like he never watches porn. And, really, he thinks his stuff is some of the best out there, as far as solo work goes. He has no problem with that. But this... he _needed_ this. Drinking in JC's scent, jacking off on the sheets he just used, for heaven's sake-- 

_Out of control._ That's the part that makes him uncomfortable. 

He gets up and unhooks the video camera, pulling the sheets off the bed and stripping the pillowcases too, not letting himself hesitate. His shorts can go in the same load, and he carries the whole bundle straight to the washing machine and turns it on before heading to his own bathroom and starting the shower. 

*** 

"Bass! Dude! Miss me yet?" 

Lance holds the phone away from his ear until the shouting stops. 

"Hey, Chris. It's good to hear from you, man. How's grad school treating you?" 

"It's busy as hell. The classes are great, but these little shits are driving me insane." 

Lance laughs. "That bad, huh?" 

"Fuck, you have no idea. I wanna go back and apologize personally to every TA I ever had in college." Lance can practically see Chris's hangdog expression. "Anyway, I've got to get away for a day or two. Thought I'd drive down for the game this weekend." 

"Yeah? That'd be great. You gonna crash here?" 

"You still got that video hookup in your spare room, man? Should I be worried? You lookin' for a little repeat performance?" Chris never misses an opportunity to tease Lance about how his business never would've taken off without Chris's help--and it's probably true. For all his manic demeanor, Chris understands people better than almost anyone Lance knows, and he really helped Lance figure out how to approach prospective models without scaring them off. Plus, of course, he did the first tape Lance ever put up, back before he had the money to hire strangers. Lance is pretty sure Chris enjoyed the exhibitionist aspect of it, but he still paid Chris for it later, when membership picked up. 

"You wish." Lance grins affectionately. "Nah, you'll be safe. I don't have anything scheduled until next Tuesday." 

"Ah, the busy life of an Internet porn kingpin..." Chris's voice trails off in an affected sigh. 

"Shut up, fucker. You're just jealous 'cause I make more money than you do." 

"Touché, Bass." 

Lance hums when he hangs up the phone, making a mental note to call Joey later to set something up for Saturday, after the game. A barbecue would probably be easiest, and Joe can help him get the word out to Kelly and the rest of their friends. But first he'd better get some work done--with Chris around, the weekend'll be a total write-off. 

*** 

The life of an Internet porn kingpin isn't as glamorous as it looks, Lance thinks later that evening, struggling with his database and updating the member list. He's got the whole system working pretty smoothly, thanks to a friend in the computer science department, but it takes time and attention to maintain the site, arrange advertising, and respond to member e-mail, all on top of finding and filming guys for the videos. 

Not that he's complaining, of course. The money more than makes up for the boring side of things. Plus there are the occasional perks, like this afternoon. 

He spends a little time editing JC's video. Some guys sound stupid, say stupid things that break the mood, but JC doesn't need to be covered up with cheesy background music. Lance just fades the action in at the beginning and back to black at the end. He's done so many of these that he can edit on autopilot now. It's not until he's ready to upload it that he realizes he forgot to ask about a stage name. "Jesus, I must be losing it for real," he mutters, reaching for the phone. He really doesn't want to have to wait until Tuesday when he sees JC again. That video is too good; it needs to go up before the weekend. 

Lance dials the number, rolling his eyes when he feels his heart start to pound as the phone rings. _Dork._

"Oh, um. I don't know," JC replies when Lance asks about the name. "Not my real name, I guess?" 

"Well, it's up to you," Lance says. "But most people prefer to have, you know, a little distance. Your middle name, maybe?" 

"Yeah. All right. That's, uh, Scott. Would that be okay?" 

"Sure, if that's good for you." 

JC pauses a moment. When he speaks again, he sounds nervous. "So, I guess this is it, huh? My big debut?" 

Lance wonders if JC's getting cold feet now, and kicks himself for not remembering to ask about the name earlier. Not that JC can really back out at this point, with the papers signed and the video made. But Lance doesn't want to get into that situation, not when he's hoping to stay friends with JC afterwards. _Or more._ He needs to handle this right. "You're going to be really popular," he says. "Or 'Scott' is, anyway. You're a very sexy guy, JC." 

JC laughs softly. "If you say so." 

"Believe me." Almost too sexy, Lance thinks, his skin prickling as he remembers what JC looked like on the tape. 

"Well... I hope you're right," JC finally says. There's that laugh again, and Lance finds himself straining not to miss a word. "It would really suck to be a flop at this. How embarrassing." 

"That is _not_ going to be a problem," Lance assures him. "The only problem I'm expecting is the time it'll take me to answer the e-mails asking for your phone number. Don't worry," he adds quickly, "I would never give any of your personal information out. That's clear in the contract, and even if it weren't, that's not what this is about. But that doesn't stop people from asking." 

"You're pretty confident about this." 

"It's a sure thing." Lance realizes he's been doodling all over his planner. "Okay, well, I guess I should let you go, huh?" _Gee, that was smooth._

"Yeah, I'll see you Tuesday, then, right?" 

Lance nods. "Um, would you--do you have plans for Saturday?" 

There's silence for a second, during which Lance blinks at himself. Where the fuck did that come from? "Do you mean--did you want to change our appointment?" JC asks. "Or..." 

Lance knows he should say yes. He's still off-balance from this afternoon, and what in the world is he doing? But Chris'll be in the room on Saturday, and he's just fucked either way. "No, I mean--I'm kind of putting together a thing, a barbecue, for after the game, Joey'll be there, and some other friends, I thought--" 

"Oh." Lance can't read JC's voice at all, can't tell how he's reacting. 

"You don't have to. I mean, it's not--it was a dumb idea, you probably already have plans. It's okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot." 

"No, I--that sounds like fun." Lance isn't sure, but he imagines JC's smiling. "I don't know that many people in town yet, and--yeah. I mean, if I won't be in the way?" 

Lance swallows. "Not at all. You'll be at the game, right? So just head on over here after. I'll have food and sodas and beer; if you want anything else to drink, it's bring your own." 

After they hang up, Lance pushes his chair back far enough to let him whack his forehead against the edge of the desk. "What am I doing?" he asks the empty room. "Hands off the talent. Not to mention, with Chris here?" He groans. "I am _so_ fucked." 

*** 

As it turns out, Kelly's on one of her periodic anti-football swings, so she's planned a girls' day out for Saturday. Lance is just as glad. He likes Kelly well enough, but he figures it's probably better if it never occurs to her to ask _too_ many questions about his business. 

Chris drives in Friday night, but characteristically, he gets a late start out of Nashville, so he doesn't arrive until almost 2, stumbling in the door bleary-eyed from night driving. Lance meets him at the door with a beer, and lets Chris puppy-dog-look him into offering a backrub without too much resistance. 

Lance has never been sure exactly how they ended up being such good friends, when they drove each other nuts as a couple. Though, then again, maybe that's _why_ they're fine as friends. Or something. He doesn't care, he's just glad to see Chris's face again. 

Chris falls asleep halfway through the backrub, without even making his usual witty remarks about hoping the sheets are clean. Lance thinks he probably should be grateful, considering he'd probably blush scarlet if Chris asked the first question about how business is, or if Lance is seeing anyone. 

_God. Tomorrow's going to be **so** much fun. _

*** 

It's an early game, 11:00 kickoff, so Lance pulls Chris out of bed at 10:00, mixes them each a stiff Bloody Mary, and they walk to the stadium together. Football is one of the main reasons Lance decided on a state school rather than business school in Atlanta or Charlotte. Also, Ole Miss is closer to home, and his mama likes that. 

It's just like always. Chris is still wilder than any of the actual students in the student section. The Rebels are off to a good start this season, and it's a good game. But Lance knows he's in trouble when he finds himself having to check the scoreboard to find out whether it's second or third down. 

When Chris goes to buy Cokes from the concession stand, Lance moves up a couple of rows to chat with Joey, who's sitting with a small group from the theatre department. JC isn't with them and Lance scans the student section to see if he can spot him anywhere. The stands are a sea of red and blue, and he can't pick out anyone, so after a few minutes he heads back to his own seat. He's still looking around, though, and doesn't notice Chris is back until he hears him whooping over an interception. 

Lance turns around quick, blushing, and reaches for his hip flask to doctor the Cokes--liberally--before they drink. 

"I taught you well, my boy, I taught you well," Chris sighs like an old-timer as he takes his Jack and Coke from Lance. "But what the hell is up with you? You're not even paying attention to the game." 

Lance shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Believe me, Kirkpatrick, you don't want to know." 

Chris grins evilly. "Oh, I don't know about that." He keeps his eyes on the field when he continues. "Probably more like, _you_ don't want me to know. HEY! YOU BLIND, REF? FACE MASK! THAT WAS HOLDING!" Chris joins the crowd around them in yells of indignation. 

Lance hopes that'll be enough distraction to get them off the subject, but a little later Chris returns to it. "What could it be, to make you, of all people, ignore the mighty Rebels?" Chris smirks. "Business? Love? Come on, Bass, give it up." 

Chris is interrupted by someone on the other side crashing into him, gangly arms and legs flying. Chris barely manages to keep from spilling his drink. "Hey!" he begins to bitch, turning, when Lance sees who it is. 

"Sorry about that, man. Someone pushed me. You all right?" Justin leans forward to peer around Chris. "Hey Lance, how's it going?" 

Chris turns back to Lance with disbelief in his eyes. "This is a _friend_ of yours?" 

Lance shoots them both a withering look. "Why aren't you in the freshman stands, Justin?" 

Justin looks at him, blue eyes wide, his smile fading. "I saw you looking around. I thought, y'know, maybe you were looking for me." He bats long eyelashes, doing a remarkably accurate Bambi impersonation, but one corner of his mouth won't quite keep from quirking up. 

Lance can't help laughing. "Man, you do not quit, do you?" He shakes his head. "No, sorry, I was not looking to find a freshman, an _underage_ freshman, who I've met _once_ , to invite him to share our already occupied seats." 

Justin sighs. "Can't blame a guy for tryin'. Freshman seats _suck_. And the guys there are so..." 

"Young?" Chris asks, snagging the plastic cup from Justin's hand and taking a sip. "Ah, ah, ah, naughty, naughty." Justin reaches for his drink and Chris holds it behind him. "Little boys who are too young to be in this section shouldn't be spiking their drinks..." 

"Oh, _man!_ " Justin turns to Lance, who shakes his head. 

"Sorry. Shoulda stayed back up there," gesturing to the top of the bleachers. 

"You guys _suck_." Justin rolls his eyes, turning to head back up the stairs, and Lance relents a little. 

"Hey," he says, and Justin turns back, looking far more hopeful than he deserves to. "No, keep going," Lance says. "But if you want, I'm havin' a barbecue after the game. If you think you can avoid bringing the entire freshman class with you--and if you promise not to get trashed and hurl in my living room--you could probably come." Another pretty boy around is never a bad thing, after all. 

Justin lights up. "Dude! Really?" He punches Lance on the shoulder. "Cool. Where's your place?" 

Lance gives him directions, then shoves him gently to get him moving again and turns his attention back to the game. 

"Looking for someone?" Chris asks at the next time-out. 

"Huh?" 

"That kid. He said you were looking for someone in the stands." 

Lance looks at him, keeping his face blank. "He was just making that up. You saw him, he just wanted to sit here. Probably saw the empty seat while you were getting drinks and figured it was worth a try." 

"Uh-huh." Chris doesn't sound convinced. "What's the score?" 

"What?" 

"See?" Chris says. "Don't lie to me, Bass, I know you too well. So, not business then. Pleasure. Who is it? He can't be sexier than me, but I'm glad you're trying to venture out again..." 

Lance considers continuing to bluff, but it's not worth it. Chris _does_ know him too well. He shrugs, at least trying to downplay it. "Just a guy I met," he says. "We're not, I mean, I just met him last week. I don't even know if he's interested. I don't know if _I_ am, really. He's just, kind of cute, is all." 

"Just kind of cute and you're more interested in looking for him in the stands than watching the game? Uh-huh." 

The time-out ends and Lance sighs in relief. Chris is physically incapable of not focusing on the game, so Lance gets a reprieve. He knows better than to think this conversation is over, though. "He's coming to the barbecue," he mutters. "I think." 

Chris's head turns, paying attention without taking his eyes off the field. "Good," he says. "I can scope him out. See if he's good enough for you." 

"Oh, _great_." 

"Hey, ex's prerogative," Chris replies. "And since you're not watching the game anyway, it's your turn to make a beverage run." 

Lance punches Chris on the arm but doesn't argue. On his way up the stairs, he runs into several people from his classes, but still doesn't see JC. He chides himself mentally as he waits in line for Cokes. 

Coming back down to his seat, he promises himself to pay attention to the rest of the game. The Rebels win again, which helps. Chris is in high spirits as they leave the stadium with Joey and a few other friends. As they walk back to his place, Lance is a little buzzed from drinking in the hot sun all afternoon, but he's alert enough to evade any more questions from Chris. 

*** 

People start trickling in soon after they get back to Lance's apartment. Joey sets himself the task of buzzing people in. It only takes a minute to put the bowls of chips and other snacks out. Lance keeps one eye on the door as he fires up the grill on the balcony and points newcomers towards the coolers full of soda and beer. 

Not surprisingly, Justin is one of the first people to arrive. He's not alone. Lance watches from across the room as Joey lets them in, Justin and a big, blond, good-looking kid who doesn't look a day older than sixteen. His bangs flop into his eyes as he introduces himself to Joey. Lance grabs a couple of beers from the cooler and walks over. He catches a glimpse of the kid's smile as Joey talks, and Lance thinks, _Hmm. Wonder how old he really is?_

"Hey, Lance. How's it hangin'?" Justin's trying to act cool, like he gets invited to upperclassmen's parties every day. 

Lance hands him a beer. "Hey, Justin. Who's your friend?" 

"I'm Nick." The blond sticks out a big hand and Lance shakes. Nice. "Justin's roommate." 

"You a freshman too?" 

Nick shrugs and smiles sheepishly. 

"Yeah, well, have fun." Lance smirks at both of them, and then gives Nick the second beer. "But I'm warning both of you, don't hurl in my apartment. Or you will be _very_ sorry." 

Justin sighs heavily and pops open his beer. "Don't _worry_ , man. You really need to chill." 

Lance is about to ask how Justin would know what he needs when he's interrupted by Chris. "Man, that is the smartest thing I've heard that kid say yet." Chris grins at Lance and then turns to Justin and Nick. "They sure do make 'em young these days." He looks up. "And big." 

Nick laughs and sticks out his hand again. "Hey. I'm Nick. I guess you know Justin." 

Chris laughs. "Well, not really, except he almost made me kick his ass at the game today." He ignores Justin's yelp and shakes Nick's hand. "I'm Chris. I'm just here for the weekend. I graduated last spring." 

"Oh, cool." Nick and Justin both put on an air of desperate casualness about the news that they're talking to someone so much older. 

"Nah, he's not that cool," Lance teases, poking at Chris's shoulder. 

"And you, my man, need to chill. As the boy said." Chris turns his attention to Lance. "I'm sure everyone here'll excuse you for a minute if you come to the back with me." 

Lance is puzzled as Chris pulls him to the guest room. "I really need to stay out there," he protests, when Chris shuts the door behind them. 

"Lance, you're hovering like a vulture. What is your problem?" 

"It's--nothing, Chris. Just leave me alone." Lance is starting to feel irritated. What if JC shows up while he's back here? 

"No, listen. Dude, you're gonna scare this guy away if he shows up and you're acting like this. He's not here yet, right?" 

Lance sighs. "No." He just wants to get back to the party. 

"Well, Jesus, let me do something to take the edge off." Chris blocks Lance from leaving the room. "I mean it, you're even making _me_ nervous." 

Lance raises an eyebrow. "Chris, you're always nervous." 

"No, man. Hyper. I'm hyper. Not nervous. But stop trying to change the subject." Chris moves a little closer, puts his hands on Lance's shoulders. "You must chill. Okay?" Lance nods grudgingly. "Good. Your choice. Blowjob or pot?" 

Lance cracks up. Chris'll do it, too. "If those are the choices, I'll take the pot." 

Chris rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You've obviously got it bad for this guy. Because I sure can't say you don't know what you're missing." 

Fortunately, Chris carries a pipe, because if Lance had to sit still through the ritual of rolling a joint, he might explode. As it is, he's fidgeting the whole time Chris fills the bowl--pinching off a crumb more, a crumb less, tapping it down with his fingers--until Lance finally growls and grabs the pipe and lighter himself. 

By the time they open the door a few minutes later, he has to admit he's feeling a little better. He's still eager to see JC again, but the pot's taking the edge off his tension. Chris is laughing at him, of course, but hell, he's used to that, and he bats a playful grope away without the irritation he would've felt earlier. "Don't touch the merchandise," he growls, grinning, and gets an approving nod in response. 

"There, that's the Bass I know and love," Chris says. 

"What, the one who shoots you down every time you make a pass at me?" 

"Oh, you just keep telling yourself that." Chris shimmies past him in the hallway. "You know you want me." One more shake of his ass and he's off toward the cooler. Chris gets cotton-mouth worse than anyone else Lance knows. Or he just complains about it more, which is entirely possible. 

Lance heads back in the direction of the grill, glancing around the room as he makes his way through. Everything looks fine; Justin and Nick are standing by the stereo, looking through his CDs, but they don't seem to be hurting anything. Lance says hi to a couple of newcomers, makes sure they've got fresh beers. Joey's working the grill in Lance's absence, a couple of girls hovering nearby, as usual. Lance recognizes them from the theatre group at the game. It always amuses him how girls flock to Joey, but then, a straight guy in the theatre department is a precious commodity. 

"Um." 

Lance almost doesn't hear the softly spoken word, but after he's gone another step his brain catches up with his body and he stops, turning. "Hey, JC." His breath catches in his throat and he hopes he doesn't look too stupid-stoned. "Sorry, I didn't see you come in." 

"I, um. Hope it's still okay that I came. To the party." JC flushes pink. 

"Of course! I mean--yeah, that's why I invited you, right?" 

"Well. Yeah. I just." JC shrugs. "I should probably go hang with Joey, huh? But I hate to butt in, he looks like he's having fun with those girls." 

"You want me to introduce you around?" JC looks delicious. His hair's a little curly from the heat, and Lance wonders what his skin tastes like right there at his temple where it's damp. And that definitely isn't what Lance should be thinking about right now. 

"I, uh. You're probably busy. I mean, you looked..." There's a shout of laughter from the side of the room where Chris is holding court with some of his friends. JC glances over for just a second, then turns back to Lance. "Busy." 

"What? Nah, I'm just, y'know, making sure people have drinks. Do you have a drink?" He looks down at JC's empty hands. "Do you want a drink?" Pot makes him talk too much, he knows this. Why did he let Chris talk him into getting high? "C'mon, let's go get you a drink." He gestures toward the coolers. 

"Okay..." JC follows Lance to the coolers and plucks a beer out of the ice. "Thanks." Lance grabs one for himself and pops it open, taking a long sip to keep from running his mouth more. 

When he lowers the can, JC's watching him. "Did you enjoy the game?" 

"Yeah, oh yeah, I love the Rebels." Lance grins. "I've been a fan my whole life. I never miss a home game." 

JC nods and looks at the floor. 

Lance's brain is screaming at him to make conversation. After an awkward lull, he asks, "How about you? Were you at the game?" 

JC looks startled for a second. "Uh, yeah. I was there with some guys from the music department. We were sitting near the band." 

Lance mentally slaps himself. The band. Of course. 

"I saw you," JC continues. 

It's Lance's turn to flush. "You saw me? You mean--at the game?" God, his voice, did his voice just crack? 

JC seems oblivious to Lance's incredible dorkiness. "Yeah, you were, I don't know, looking around or something. Like standing up and looking back up the stands. That's why I noticed you, y'know, in the crowd." 

Lance watches JC's lips move as he talks, because they're damp, and pink, and kind of really soft-looking, and it takes him a moment to realize what JC's actually saying. He never should've smoked up. _Say something, dork. Then he'll say something back._ "Uh, you should've come over. Or something." 

JC shrugs minutely and smiles a little. "Well..." 

"Lance!" The shout is loud in his ear, and Lance jumps. "Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend?" 

Lance shakes Chris off his back and swallows hard. "Yeah, of course. Chris, this is JC. He's, um. He's a transfer student. In the music department. JC, this is Chris. He's a constant pain in my ass." 

Chris grins and holds out a hand. "JC. Nice to meet you, man. I've been hearing a lot about you today." 

JC hesitates with his hand halfway to Chris's, blushing deep red. "You--you have?" 

Chris grabs his hand and pumps it. "Yeah, well, I mean, Lance is pretty secretive, so I didn't know your name was _JC_ or anything, but you're obviously the guy he's been _mmmff_ \--" Chris glares as Lance claps a hand over his mouth. 

"Shut. _Up_." Lance hisses in Chris's ear, and he can feel Chris yelling "Hey!" against his palm. "Just shut up." 

JC is still horribly red in the face, and Lance looks at him pleadingly. "Please ignore him, he's just high, he's not--" 

JC backs away a couple of steps and looks at the door. "Uh, maybe I should just--" 

"No!" It comes out louder than Lance meant it to. A couple of heads turn and he smiles weakly. "No," he repeats, "please, JC, I'm--you gotta understand, Chris is just... Chris. He likes to, um, embarrass--" 

JC draws himself up. He's taller than Lance, Lance realizes, though he didn't seem that way a second ago. "You said," he says quietly, almost inaudible over the thumping beat of the music that Justin must have put on, "you said, confidential. I thought--" He shakes his head, once, a tight movement. "I should go." 

"Confi--" Lance lets go of Chris. Oh, shit. "No, JC. That's not--" Chris is sputtering, but he's not stupid or truly evil, so he does it quietly, even taking a small step back, though he doesn't actually walk away and leave them alone to talk. 

"I thought you invited me here as a friend," JC says. 

"I did, oh shit, JC, I did. I'm--" He can't do this here. Not in the middle of a party. It's hardly the Beta house, nobody's out of control, but it's not exactly private or quiet, either. "Please, JC," he says. "Can we, can we go--" 

Not into the guest bedroom, obviously, even if Chris's stuff weren't in there. Not in his bedroom, that'll look like--just, no. Finally, Lance takes JC by the arm and heads for the bathroom. It's not perfect, but it's clean and, thankfully, unoccupied. Lance shuts the door carefully, trying to sober up as best he can, holding up a hand when JC moves to leave. "Please," he says. "It's not, I, you think I said something to Chris about, y'know, you doin'..." 

JC just stands and looks at him. After a moment, his head dips in a nod. 

"Shit. No." Lance closes his eyes, but that just reminds him he's still, whether he likes it or not, fairly stoned. He blinks at JC. "Chris, he's--he was tryin' to embarrass _me_. Not you." 

"Why would he--" 

Lance shakes his head. "That's just Chris. He's my--he's one of my best friends, and we hooked up for a while, but he's just, it's like it's his mission in life to play jokes on me. I'm kind of used to it by now," he admits. "But it's an acquired taste." 

"Oh," JC says. "Um. You're not... you're not together? Anymore?" 

"What?" Lance would laugh, except JC still looks like he's about a half-second from bolting, and Lance doesn't want to do anything to startle him. "No. Not for a while now. We're, we work better as friends. I'm not, y'know--" He hesitates a second, but maybe the pot wasn't all bad, because he probably does need to say this. "I haven't been seeing anybody, like, that I really like. In a while." There. He can breathe now, and hope that didn't sound as stupid to JC as it did to him. 

"Oh." JC looks like he's giving the situation more thought than it deserves. "Well then, but, he said you were talking about me. If you didn't tell him about, um, you know. Then what, uh. What were you saying?" 

Lance rubs his eyes and tries to think. He's hardly even known the guy a week. But the look in JC's eyes says he'd better answer, right now, and it had better be good. He takes a deep breath. 

"I didn't say it was you, Chris just figured, or thought..." Lance pauses when he sees how confused JC looks. _Start over._ "Chris asked me if I'd met anyone new. Anyone, you know, that I liked. He always asks me that." Lance looks at JC's fingers gripping the edge of the sink. "I said that I had. And he was teasing me about that person being at the party, and then I guess he, well..." 

JC clears his throat. "He thought it was me." 

Lance nods and wants to fall through the floor. This can't be happening. It's too soon, way too soon. Next _year_ would be too soon. But he knows if JC leaves now he'll probably never come back, not for their appointment Tuesday and certainly not for anything else. So Lance finally says quietly, "He was right." 

JC stares at Lance while Lance tries to look anywhere but at JC. A few moments later, Lance continues, "This all makes me feel really weird, JC. I mean, because we haven't--we don't even know each other at all, really, plus, y'know, the business side of things. I'm really sorry. I don't normally mix business with my personal life and the reason for that is because I'm really bad at it." 

JC nods, and Lance hopes he means he understands, rather than that he's just agreeing that Lance kind of sucks at this stuff. "Okay," JC says slowly. "I'm sorry if I, um, jumped to conclusions, it's just, I guess I'm a little nervous about the whole thing and--" 

"It's okay," Lance says. "I promise, though, everything I told you--I don't talk to people about this stuff. Even my friends. I take your confidentiality--everybody's, everybody who models for me--very seriously. I mean, like, Joey knows that we talked about it because he introduced us, but I don't even tell him who follows through and who doesn't." 

Another nod. "Thanks." JC's still looking at him, and Lance can't figure out what the hell to say next. After a minute JC takes a step closer. One corner of his mouth turns up a little, and Lance feels his breath catch. "Like you said," JC says softly, "we barely know each other. How'd you--I mean, you just..." He glances down a moment, then brings his eyes back to Lance's. "Was it just... watching me, the other day? You thought I was, y'know, you said, sexy?" 

It's not a come-on; JC looks honestly curious, so Lance bites his lip and forces himself not to react visibly to the reminder of how JC looked, how Lance had responded. What he'd done after JC left. "No," he says. "I mean, God, you were sexy as hell. I told you that, but I was--" He can feel himself blushing, and hopes he's sunburnt enough to cover it. "You just seemed, I don't know," he continues. "You can ask Joey if you want. Just from meeting you that first day at the student union, I was already... interested. I don't know. Maybe that makes me a dog, to say that after talking to you for five minutes, but..." He shrugs. "I was hopin' to get to know you better," he concludes lamely. 

JC inhales, waits a beat, lets it out. Lance tries not to stare. "Okay," he says. "I mean, I'll have to. Think about it? It's a little weird, you know, to talk about, what, getting to know each other, when you've already seen me. Like that. I guess that's why I sorta... jumped to conclusions before. I didn't really think about it, when you invited me over, how it would feel. Being here, y'know, when the last time was for..." He waves a hand vaguely as he trails off. 

Lance nods, swallowing. "That's fine. I mean, yeah. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." _Hands off the talent_ , he tells himself. _There's a good reason._

"I think I should go," JC says, and even though Lance was already preparing himself for it, he feels his stomach drop. 

He forces a smile. "Okay. I understand." He steps to the side so JC can reach the door. But instead of sliding by him, JC takes a step forward and stops, right up next to Lance, his body warm, smelling faintly of sunshine and paint. 

"It was really nice of you to invite me to the party," JC murmurs, and Lance can feel JC's warmth on his skin. "I, um. I'm glad. That you're... interested. I think?" Another of those small smiles that leave Lance breathless. And then JC leans in and brushes his mouth over Lance's, feather-light and gone before Lance can muster up the motor control to do anything about it. 

"Huh?" Lance says, and JC smiles for real this time. 

"I'll see you Tuesday," he says. "Right?" 

Lance thinks he nods, but all he knows for sure is that he's standing in the now-empty bathroom, staring stupidly at the mirror. After a moment he picks up the beer he put on the countertop when they came in and takes a long swallow. He's not certain, but he thinks maybe that went a lot better than it might have. 

*** 

Lance figures he's pretty much shot for the rest of the party. JC's gone by the time he leaves the bathroom. At least Chris gives him a reprieve when he shows back up, just shooting him a pointed look and saying, "We are _so_ talking about this tomorrow," before heading back out to run the grill. 

A little while later, Justin corners Lance in the kitchen as he mixes margaritas in the blender. Lance doesn't normally break out the hard liquor for post-game parties, but right now he needs something stronger than beer, so what the hell. He can afford it. "So, man, you changed your mind yet about letting me model for you?" Justin asks, raising his voice over the whine of the machine. 

Lance opens a new bag of chips and dumps them into a bowl before turning to face Justin. "I would love to have you as a model," he says, keeping his face blank as Justin lights up, then adds, "just as soon as you bring me a valid--I said _valid_ \--ID that shows you're legal." 

Justin huffs himself onto a stool, pouting. Lance pulls a jar of salsa out of the fridge and grabs a bowl to pour it into. "Just take this stuff and put it on the coffee table." He shoves the chips and salsa into Justin's hands. 

When Lance makes his way into the living room with a tray of margaritas a few minutes later, the room is full of whoops and hollers as Justin gives Chris a lapdance to Janet Jackson's "Nasty." Justin's working it like the underage hustler he obviously longs to be and Chris is laughing his ass off, and Lance can't help but laugh as well, even though he knows Justin's only trying to show him what he's missing. Lance shakes his head as Justin pulls off his shirt and Chris, still weeping with laughter, stuffs a dollar bill into the waistband of his jeans. Rolling his eyes, Lance glances around the room, glad to see that there aren't any truly shocked faces. His B-school buddies have left for other parties already, so it's just the drama folks and his other friends, and none of them care how much of a fool Justin makes of himself. 

Lance notices Nick watching the spectacle and walks over to offer him a margarita. "Thanks," Nick murmurs. As the song ends, Justin seems to be looking for his next victim. Nick looks more amused than scandalized. 

"So, how much do you think he's had to drink?" Lance asks, gesturing at Justin. 

Nick ducks his head. "It don't matter, dawg. He pretty much always acts like that." 

Lance smirks. "Must be lots of fun to live with him." 

"Oh yeah." But Nick doesn't seem to mind, much. He certainly doesn't take his eyes off Justin. 

Nick is pretty. Big and blond, like Lance noticed the minute he walked in. Totally not Lance's type, but the kind of guy who's popular with Lance's members, and baby-faced to boot. Lance sees how he's watching Justin and wonders again what Nick would think about doing some business. He may as well get something out of the afternoon besides the opportunity to demonstrate for JC what an amazing idiot he is. 

Lance lets the pause build for a minute before asking, "So, Nick, how old are you?" 

Nick turns and eyes him a second before answering, "Eighteen." 

Lance smiles. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna take your drink away. But, seriously--eighteen like the state of Mississippi thinks you're eighteen, or eighteen like Justin's eighteen?" 

Nick grins. It's a good look on him. "Nah. I'm really eighteen. He was, y'know, all overachiever and everything, got into college early. Me, I was having too much fun to give up senior year." He takes a sip of his drink. "Why?" 

Lance glances around, but Justin's dancing for Joey now--and Joey's very appreciative flock of girls--and really, aside from Chris, who somehow always seems to know what's going on in every corner (survival instinct from growing up with four sisters, he says), nobody else in the room is paying any attention to the two of them. "Well," Lance says, "I have this business..." 

Nick laughs, one short bark. "Yeah. I mean, Justin told me. He's all ready to be your new star." 

Lance rolls his eyes. Well, there's one he won't have to worry about keeping secret from Chris. Come to think of it, he might want to get _Justin_ to sign a confidentiality agreement, just so Lance's name doesn't end up all over school. "Yeah, well. Justin's not who I wanted to talk about." He waits a moment, hoping to get a read on Nick's receptivity without having to say too much. 

Nick doesn't react for a second. Then he frowns a little. "You're--" He laughs again, but it's not as easy a sound as it was a minute ago. "You're not talking about me, right? I mean--" 

Oh well. Lance puts a hand up. "It's okay. If you're not interested, no problem. I didn't--I mean, this party isn't a recruiting thing or anything. I just thought I'd ask. Or," something else occurring to him, "if it's that you're not, I mean, not everyone who models for me is gay." Just because Nick's watching doesn't mean he's interested, Lance thinks. Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit he's interested. Either way, it's okay with Lance. 

Nick looks down at his drink, then takes another gulp. "No. I mean, I'm not, like, offended. And." He licks margarita foam off his upper lip. "Yeah, I'd, um. Qualify. That way. Just--" He spreads one big hand and gestures at himself. "I'm not exactly in Justin's league, y'know?" 

Lance widens his eyes. "You don't think you're... attractive enough?" Nick gives a little shrug in response. "Don't sell yourself short, Nick. You're very hot." Lance follows Nick's gaze to where Justin is writhing on one of Joey's girls. "You don't have to buy into his press, you know." 

Nick manages a more convincing smile at that. Still, he shakes his head. "I--thanks, y'know? But trust me, I live with the guy. He's got a six-pack that won't quit. Me--more like a case." 

Nick's definitely bulkier than Justin. But then, almost anyone would be. "Not everybody likes the same thing," he tells Nick. "I think you could be very popular. I mean, if you were interested." 

Nick doesn't say anything, but his lips curve as he ducks his head a little to sip his drink. "Think about it," Lance adds. He pats his pockets. "I don't have a card on me right now, but I can go dig one up if you want. Or I'm in the school directory, you can use that number too." He pauses a second, then grins. "Just think how much it would piss Justin off. " 

Nick laughs at that. "Oh, man. That'd be worth a lot." He tilts his head. "You really think?" 

Lance nods at him. "Believe me, Nick, I don't throw my money away. If I offer to pay you, it's because I think people will want to see you." 

"Wow." Nick smiles down into his drink. 

"What's going on over here, Bass? You're not corrupting this young man's mind, are you?" Chris pushes himself into the space between the two of them, hanging onto Lance and Nick's shoulders. 

Lance snorts. "It's probably a little late for that. You do realize this 'young man' lives with _Justin_ , don't you?" 

Chris smiles up at Nick. "Lucky Justin." He doesn't look away when Nick gawks. 

Lance grins at Nick's blush. "I'm gonna go shut down the grill, guys." He slips away, leaving them together. Out on the balcony it's quiet now, everyone chased back inside by the mosquitoes. The heat of the day has given way to evening, and Lance enjoys the cool and the darkness as he cleans off the grill and covers it up. Away from the laughter and noise inside, he can't help but think about JC, how JC looked at him earlier in the bathroom. _He kissed me._ Lance shakes his head in disbelief. _Well, sorta._

He doesn't know how he's going to make it to Tuesday. Or what he's going to do when Tuesday comes. 

*** 

"Coffee... coffee now." Chris staggers into the kitchen and opens a cabinet blindly, reaching for a mug. Lance steadies him as he falls into a chair at the table. 

"Jesus, Chris, how much did you drink yesterday?" 

Chris just lowers his face to the table and waves one hand over his head. "No talking. Just coffee." 

Lance fills the mug and sets it on the table. Chris groans, then pushes himself up, dumps two spoons of sugar in the cup, and takes a shaky sip. 

Lance sits down with his own coffee, then glances up as Nick--looking a little uncertain, but otherwise none the worse for wear--appears in the kitchen doorway. "Uh, hey, Lance." 

"Morning, Nick." Lance gives him a wry grin. It's not like it's news to him Nick spent the night. He does have ears. "Want some coffee?" 

"Naw... I can't drink that stuff." Nick rubs a hand through his sleep-messy hair. "Thanks, though. I guess it's just one of those things you don't like 'til you get older." 

Chris groans again and buries his head deeper in his arms, and Lance tries not to grin too obviously. 

"I guess, you know, I better get goin'." Nick steals a look at Chris, then starts edging toward the door. "I should get back to the dorm, or whatever." 

At that, Chris's eyes snap open and he pushes himself up, standing by the table, only wavering slightly. "I'll walk you out." 

Lance manages not to laugh until they're out of the room. He hears Chris speaking softly to Nick in the front hallway, and then there's a long pause before the apartment door opens and closes. When Chris comes back into the room he avoids Lance's eyes, sliding back into his chair and finishing his coffee. 

Finally Chris speaks, staring at the table. "You know, I was so ready to bust your balls over your stellar performance with JC, and now I just don't have any credibility." He really looks miserable. 

Lance sets down his coffee cup. "Did you have fun with Nick?" 

Chris tries on a leer, then lets it go, nodding slowly. "Yeah. He's--you know, he's really a nice guy. Not as much of a kid as he seems, this morning's appearances to the contrary." 

Lance laughs at him and stands to put his cup in the sink. "Get over yourself, Chris. Come on. Let's go to Waffle House. You can drown your sorrows in a pecan waffle." 

Chris grimaces and sighs. "How did I ever get so stupid? I'm as stupid as you, Bass." 

"Charming as ever," Lance says. "Tell the truth--you came down this weekend because nobody at Vandy will talk to you, right?" He shakes his head. "Come on. Breakfast. I'll even let you tease me about JC." 

Chris brightens up a little. "Okay." 

*** 

The combination of hangover and embarrassment does keep Chris relatively subdued through breakfast, for which Lance gives thanks. On the other hand, _relatively subdued_ is, well, relative. 

"Hands off the talent. Hands off the talent," Chris singsongs, until Lance contemplates stabbing him with a fork. "So you saw his... stuff..." an exaggerated leer, "and decided you had to get you some of that?" 

Lance sighs. "I told you. It's not like that. He's--I liked him when we first met..." 

"When you were talking to him about jacking--" Lance looks pointedly at the waitress, a few steps away, and Chris lowers his voice. "Jacking off on camera," he finishes. "How romantic." 

"As opposed to getting trashed and falling into bed with a kid whose last name you don't even know?" Lance points out. "Wow, Chris, hearts and flowers there." 

"Point taken," Chris admits. "But, Bass, I never claimed to be anything but a dog." 

It's not true, really, and they both know it. But Lance just raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his coffee. "So, how's Nashville treating you?" From there the conversation turns to their respective classes, and whether Lance should go to grad school ("I'm a first-semester junior, Chris; I think maybe we can wait a little while on that decision"), and Lance ultimately gets out of the restaurant without having to muzzle Chris at all, which is, frankly, more than he'd expected out of the morning. 

*** 

Chris leaves midafternoon to head back to school (though not before spending a while on the phone in the guest bedroom, Lance notes). Lance finishes up his classwork for Monday, and then logs on to check what's happening with the website. 

He goes to his hits counter while his e-mail is still downloading. And just sits there and laughs. 

Weekend traffic is always heavy anyway, and he knew "Scott" would be popular. But he really wasn't expecting to nearly double his past record (a heavily promoted session with a third-time model)--and Sunday's not even over yet. And, better yet, he's got almost fifty new membership notifications in his inbox from his payment verification service. Word of mouth travels fast. 

It's not like Lance didn't know JC's session was special. He's still a little uncomfortable with how much it turned him on, but he's glad to know other people thought it was as hot as he did. 

When his e-mail finishes downloading, the subject lines confirm that Scott is definitely a big hit so far. The feedback runs the gamut from guys requesting more action from Scott, to weirdos who write personal letters to the actors themselves. Not that Lance would ever pass them along, of course. His policies are very clear. Still, like he told JC, that doesn't stop people from trying. 

He uses pre-drafted responses to reply to almost all the messages. For those requesting more footage of Scott, he tells them to stay tuned for another week or so. He'll probably wait and upload JC's second session next weekend, to increase the impact. 

He settles down to update the member database, and smiles to himself when he thinks about the coming week. 

*** 

On Tuesday Lance rushes through his homework during lunch. His appointment with JC is set for after a meeting with his Econ study group, so he heads straight home from the library late in the afternoon. He's already got the room ready. 

He's even more nervous than the first time as he buzzes JC in. He and JC haven't spoken since Saturday, and he can't help wondering how things will be, thinking about the softness of JC's lips against his. He tries to calm himself with a couple of deep breaths as he goes to open the door. 

"Hey, Lance." JC smiles as he steps inside. He's wearing jeans and a casual shirt again, but this time instead of faded 501s and a loose cotton tee with the logo peeling off, it's black jeans with a form-fitting shirt, royal blue with flecks of silver stretched over his chest. Lance's mouth goes dry. _Did he wear that to class?_ JC looks like he's going clubbing, if anyone ever went clubbing in Oxford, Mississippi. 

"Hey JC. Thanks for... um, showing up." 

JC laughs. "Yeah, you can thank me for _coming_ later, right?" He winks at Lance. 

Lance grins back, a little startled. It's not surprising that JC would be less spooked by the situation now that he's done it once before. But this seems like... more than that. 

As if to prove he's got everything under control, JC heads down the hall towards the bedroom. "Do I need to sign more papers?" he asks over his shoulder. 

Lance steps quickly to catch up. "No, the original contract covers up to three sessions." 

"Three?" JC pauses, then turns and looks at Lance. "You didn't say anything about three." 

Lance shakes his head. "It's not an option for most people. But every once in a while there's someone who's overwhelmingly popular." 

JC nods. Then he watches Lance as he asks, "So... how'd I do on the first one? Did, um, did people like it?" 

Lance lets out a long breath and nods. "Yeah. Probably the most popular video I've had yet." He smiles at JC. "You got a lot of fan mail." 

JC's eyes widen. "Damn." 

"What?" 

"I don't know. That just makes it seem... so real. Like, people watching and writing in." 

"Do you want to see?" 

JC seems to consider it, then shakes his head, slowly. "No, I don't think so." He turns back to the guest room door and reaches for the handle. "Chris isn't here anymore, right?" 

Lance laughs. "God, no. Believe me, you'd know if Chris were still in the house." 

"I can imagine," JC smiles, and goes into the room. 

It's different this time. JC seems calm as he slips out of his shoes while Lance gets the camera ready on its tripod. Lance doesn't have a lot of time to think about it, but it's like JC's in control today, no matter who's behind the camera and who's in front of it. Lance wonders what happened. 

Leaving his shoes by the door, JC stands beside the bed and loops his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. "Uh, remember last time, we talked about, you know, extras?" 

Lance looks up. "Yeah." Oh, shit. Does JC want to use a dildo? Lance doesn't know if his heart can take it. "Do you, uh, did you bring something to...?" 

JC bites his lip, and for just a second Lance catches a glimpse of the nervousness he saw last week. "No--I mean, well. Not exactly. I was thinking. I have this... thing. I dunno. Trick, kinda. I thought maybe I'd give it a try." 

Lance's pulse speeds up. _Trick?_ He tries to sound nonchalant when he answers. "Sure, whatever you want to do." 

"It's just, you know, I've never done this for an audience before. So if it's not, like, working for you? Just say so." 

Lance's mouth is dry. "Okay. Do I, I mean, do you want to tell me what to look for, is it something I'll need to move the camera for?" 

JC smiles at Lance, and just like that, he's in control again. "I think it'll be okay the way you had it last time." 

Lance nods, and after a moment JC clears his throat. "D'you want to start taping now? Before I get undressed, I mean?" 

"Sure, if you want, that'd be great." Lance jumps, startled out of his fantasies, but he's pleased. Even if JC doesn't go any longer than he did before, starting clothed will mean the video is longer. _Plus, he'll strip for the camera_ , a little voice whispers in the back of Lance's head. That's always a nice bonus. The camera's ready to go, and Lance steps behind it. "You ready?" 

JC nods. 

When Lance hits _record_ , JC looks at the camera for a second and gives a slight smile. Still fully clothed except for his bare feet, he climbs up on the bed and settles onto his knees, sitting back on his heels, arms loose at his sides. Facing the camera, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he tips his head back, and begins to touch his chest through his shirt. 

Lance leans back against the wall, watching JC's fingers running slowly over his own pecs, molding the stretchy fabric over his muscles. JC pinches a nipple, inhaling sharply, and Lance's dick twitches in his jeans. 

JC keeps his eyes closed as he touches his chest, his shoulders, his abs. It's fucking hot. Lance wonders absently whether people would pay to watch JC just touch himself through his clothes for thirty minutes, and figures they probably would. _He_ probably would. 

After a minute or two, JC's fingers drop past his waist and brush over the front of his jeans. Lance's breath catches in his throat as he looks down and sees something that's definitely a lot more than just a wrinkle in the heavy black fabric. JC runs his fingers down the ridge and then uses both hands to pull the denim taut over his crotch. Lance finds the presence of mind to hit the zoom on the video camera, catching a full screen shot of the front of JC's jeans, snug now with the heavy weight of his cock pushing up towards the waistband. _Oh, God._

A second or two later, JC's hands are back at his waist and he's peeling his shirt up his body. Lance pans back out and gets the whole scene, JC on his knees on the mattress, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he pulls the shirt up, over his head, and off. JC drops the shirt to the floor beside the bed and goes back to touching himself, a flush of arousal rising up his chest and onto his neck in response to deft fingers stroking his body and tweaking his nipples. 

JC's eyes are open now, Lance notices, and he's looking down his body, seemingly intent on himself. Finally JC slides one hand back down to the front of his jeans and pushes down hard on his obvious erection. He grips it tightly through the fabric and Lance can see his knuckles whiten, while with his other hand he twists at one nipple. His head drops back again, exposing the length of his throat, and Lance presses himself back against the bedroom wall and closes his eyes for a second. His dick is absolutely throbbing in his jeans now, and he really needs to just _stop_ \-- 

A soft, panting sigh jerks him back to the scene on the bed. JC's got both hands at his waist, and he pops the top button on his jeans and lifts his hips up off his heels so he can undo the others. JC spreads his knees a little and pulls his fly open. He's not wearing underwear and his dick is right there, pushing up hard out of his jeans. Lance bites his lip and leans over to fiddle with the camera, zooming in on the shiny head of JC's cock. 

Lance watches the display screen on the camera, spellbound, as JC shimmies his hips just enough to push his jeans down to the top of his thighs, and then takes his dick in both hands. He handles it hard, not jerking off right away, but just pulling it to one side and then the other, squeezing it in both hands. Lance is so hard that it feels like he's going to break something, so he busies himself with the camera, shifting the focus out again and changing the angle slightly. It's not until he looks back up from the display that he realizes JC's looking right at him, his blue eyes fixed on Lance's face. 

_Shit. Oh shit._ Lance is burning up and he knows his arousal must be written all over his face, even without the obvious erection tenting his jeans. JC keeps his eyes on Lance as he starts jacking himself, stroking slowly up and down with one hand, using the other hand to scratch at his nipples and chest. Lance sags--quietly, he hopes--into a chair behind the camera. He thinks he sees a glimmer of amusement in JC's eyes. 

JC works himself rhythmically, reaching out without looking to pump out some lotion into his hand, slicking it between his fingers before sliding them down his cock, trailing white that makes Lance lick his lips, anticipating what's to come. JC sighs as he touches himself, his hand slowly gathering speed. He works his other hand into the slight space above his jeans, his fingers going out of view, but he's obviously playing with his balls as he did in the first session. Stroke after stroke, faster now, making Lance's body ache as he watches. It's not fancy, but it's working for him. It'll work for his members, he's sure of that. 

And then JC stops. Lance sees JC's fingers clench around his dick, painfully tight. Still. JC groans, closing his eyes a moment. He slides back on the bed, tugging his jeans the rest of the way down and off, his hard cock begging to be touched again. After what seems like forever, JC's stretched out on the bed, fingers wrapped around himself, and Lance can breathe again. God. JC makes a soft sound as he finds his rhythm, and then he shifts slightly, spreading his legs. Oh. Oh, yeah. His hips come off the mattress, arching into his hand, and if Lance could make himself look through the viewfinder he'd know if the camera was catching that teasing glimpse of JC's ass. 

He can't, though. Can't stand up. Can't move. If he got up, he knows he wouldn't stop behind the camera. He'd be over there, on the bed, touching, tasting. It's killing him that he doesn't know whether that's ever going to happen. He hopes--God, he hopes. JC's lips whisper over his in his memory, and Lance digs his fingernails into his palms to keep from losing control. 

And then JC's left hand goes to his mouth, two fingers between parted lips, sucking them in, fucking his own mouth, Jesus, Jesus. Lance can hear the lewd slide of wet skin against skin; JC obviously knows how to suck. Out and in and out again, slurping obscenely. When JC finally lowers his hand, Lance wants to sob. Until he realizes where that hand is going, and then he nearly howls. Down, bypassing the nipples still erect from his teasing fingers, lower... and then down, underneath. 

"Fuck," Lance breathes, only afterwards thinking to hope the mic doesn't pick it up. JC arches up higher now, legs spread--fuck, he's limber--those fingers sliding up from below now, up and. In. 

In, obviously, because JC gasps, then shudders out a moan that shivers lightning down Lance's spine. "Oh..." He sounds pained, ecstatic, beautiful. He touches himself like that, rocking on his fingers, and Lance thinks it may kill him, but he has to check the camera. Has to. Because if he misses taping this, it _will_ kill him. 

His knees manage to support him when he stands, and yes, thank God, it only takes a slight adjustment to get JC's new position fully centered and in focus. JC looks up at him, blue eyes dark, unreadable. And then he smiles, letting his head fall back as he fucks himself again, deeper. 

Lance fumbles back into the chair before his knees buckle. Fuck. Fuck. He doesn't know if this is the trick JC was talking about; it's fairly vanilla, really, but it's sexy as hell. It'll be enough. He locks his fingers down on his thighs to keep from just digging into his pants, and all he can do is stare as JC brings himself closer to the edge. Writhing on the bed, JC moans at his own touch, the fingers of one hand disappearing again and again into his ass as the other hand strokes his dick roughly. Lance sees his hips jerking erratically and knows JC's close to coming, but then JC slows his hands with a shuddering sigh, squeezing his cock tightly again until the moment has passed. 

After a minute, JC's breathing has slowed back to a more regular pace, although his dick is still as full and big as ever, shiny and slick in his hand. Lance glances at the clock display on the videocamera. JC's already gone longer than the first session now, and he doesn't show any sign of stopping. Lance wonders how long JC can make it. 

Lance wonders how long he can make it himself. 

Then JC looks at him again, pausing as if considering what to do next, and reaches up with one hand to grab a pillow. Before Lance realizes what JC has in mind, he's flipped over on his stomach and is shoving the pillow under his hips. He pushes his ass up in the air a little and his legs fall open, and he's utterly exposed. Lance scrambles for the videocamera, zooming in so JC's ass fills the screen. _God. Fuck._

JC reaches up for more lotion and rubs it between the fingers of one hand as he settles on the pillow, pulling his legs farther apart, and then he smooths his slick fingers down between his cheeks. At first he simply touches himself gently, rubbing his fingertips over the entrance to his body, teasing himself as he shifts against the pillow beneath his hips. Lance blushes furiously, uttering silent prayers in his head. He can almost see himself standing, moving across the room to throw himself down on the bed and bury his face there, right there between JC's cheeks, to kiss him and tongue him until JC can't see straight and Lance can't breathe. Lance is so hard his entire body is humming, and it takes all his willpower just to stay in the chair. 

Finally JC pushes two fingers slowly into his body, up to the second knuckle. Then he wiggles his hips a little and works his other hand back down, between his body and the pillow. As JC begins fucking himself with one hand, Lance sees the fingers of the other wrapping around his balls, below. 

JC works his hands in rhythm, fucking himself with one and pulling on his balls with the other. When JC pushes a third finger into his body with a low "Fuuuuck," Lance closes his eyes for a second and tries to think about economic theories or anything else besides what he's watching, what's happening right in front of him. It's hopeless, and he's pulled right back by the noises coming from the bed, JC's deep gasps and moans. Lance stares as JC's fingers push into his ass again and again. Without thinking, he reaches down to adjust himself before he realizes what a bad idea it is to get anywhere near touching his cock right now. He has to force himself to pull his hand away before he tears his jeans open and whacks off right there, or worse, all over JC's ass. 

And then, just when Lance thinks it can't get any hotter, JC turns his head and glances over his shoulder, not into the camera, but directly at Lance, and it's--God--it's so obviously a tease, and an invitation, and an appraisal of Lance's response, all in one. JC just _looks_ at him with those glazed eyes, and smiles a tiny smile as his hands keep working, and Lance knows right then that he'd do anything JC asked him to. _Anything._

JC's hands slow, then, and stop, and Lance's blood is boiling in his veins with need. _He can't be stopping again. He can't be._ But JC does stop, and he's still watching Lance as he slides his fingers out of his ass with a deep groan. "Oh, God..." 

Lance nods without meaning to. _Oh, God..._

Then JC's moving again, and Lance thinks, this has to be over soon, this has to end. But he moves to the camera before he can tell what JC's doing. A few seconds later, JC's on his back again, but with his head turned towards the foot of the bed, and Lance is confused about where to focus. He doesn't want to interrupt with a question, but he's not thinking all that clearly either. Suddenly Lance understands, as JC bends at the waist, lifting his hips up off the bed and piking his legs back over his head. _He should be a cheerleader_ is Lance's incongruous thought as JC bends one knee slightly and moves the other leg out to the side, keeping it straight, toes digging into the mattress for balance. And then, _Oh, God, oh my God_ is all Lance can think, as JC lines his dick up with his mouth. 

It's not like he could fuck his own throat. You'd practically have to be a circus performer to do that. But yeah, Lance sees, JC's stomach is over his chin, and his dick is... right there. Inches from his lips. Lance focuses the camera on the strangest, sexiest thing he's ever seen, and thanks his lucky stars. 

JC's breathing is shallow now, and it's no wonder, with the position he's in. It doesn't seem to worry him, though, and he reaches up with one hand and starts to jerk himself off, amazingly close to his face, while he goes back to his ass with the other hand, sliding three fingers in deep, and Lance's heart stops. 

JC's brought himself to the edge of orgasm so many times in the last hour that it doesn't take long to get back there, and Lance can see his body twitching a few seconds before it actually happens. JC grunts and lifts his head from the mattress slightly as he starts to come, his tongue snaking out pink and wet to lick the head of his dick for an instant before he's spraying himself, his mouth, his face. 

Lance bites down on his lip and tastes blood, and then he's moaning, his dick pulsing as he comes in his jeans without even laying a finger on himself. 

Oh, shit. Some part of him--the sane part--is burning with humiliation. But it feels so good. He's been aching for what seems like hours. Besides, there's nothing he can do about it now. So he closes his eyes and lets the shocks shudder through him, JC's image blazing on the inside of his eyelids. 

All too soon, though, reality comes back. And then Lance does the only thing he can think to do. It's not even thinking, really; it's instinct. He flees. 

*** 

It's a mistake. He knows that. The second he's safely inside his own bedroom, the door shut behind him, he's kicking himself. What an idiot. "Loser," he says out loud. Bad enough that JC must have seen it all, but then Lance had to run away like a scared cat. He closes his eyes and sags against the door a moment, trying to find some control. His briefs are clammy, clinging to him, and though he knows the longer he hides, the worse it'll be, he just can't go back out there like this. 

He strips quickly, to the skin, the shirt going too--he's sweated through it. He uses that to towel himself off, then yanks his dresser open and pulls out whatever's on top, tossing it on the bed. Blue jeans and a tee, it doesn't much matter which one. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers to his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he washes his hands, splashes water on his face. 

He wants to just stay here. Get in the shower, maybe, and then he won't hear JC if he knocks, won't hear him leave. At that thought Lance actually laughs, once, briefly. He'd thought he was embarrassed at the party? Jesus. 

He's not a coward, though, present indications notwithstanding. So he pulls on the clean clothes and runs his fingers through his hair, hesitating only a second before opening the door again and stepping out into the hall. Then he pulls himself up short, and goes back to open the small safe in his closet. If what JC just did wasn't an "extra," he doesn't know what would be. 

When he looks a moment later, there's no one in the guest bedroom. So he continues the few additional steps down the hallway to the living room. He can feel his skin burning, and he doesn't really want to think about what color his face is. 

A glance at the sofa shows him JC sitting on one of the side cushions, flipping through a copy of Sports Illustrated. Lance unclenches his jaw and clears his throat. "Sorry." 

JC raises an eyebrow, tossing the magazine back onto the coffee table and standing, uncoiling really. His hair is slightly damp, and his shirt and pants are molded to him, more than they were earlier, if that's possible. 

Lance tries again. "I, um." He takes a breath. "I'm sorry. That was. I've never." 

"I guess you liked it," JC says. Purrs. He stretches languidly, a move that's utterly natural and can't possibly be unconscious. "I'm flattered. I hope that's... a good sign for the future." 

He pauses, and Lance's breath catches in his throat. Does he mean--it's obvious Lance is interested, does this mean JC's interested too? 

And then JC continues, "I mean, after you get some, um, reaction from your--subscribers, right?" 

Oh. Lance nods, feeling the color rise in his face again. "Uh," he says. "Yeah. I'll, um." Damn. Well, it's not like he's exactly made a good impression today. But he'd hoped that maybe... He swallows. "I'll get your money, I mean, it's right over here." The envelope is on the table where he always has it ready for after a session. "And here's--" He pulls the extra $200 from his pocket. "Five hundred total, I hope that's okay." He hands all of it to JC, wishing maybe their fingers might brush, wishing JC might lean close, might kiss him, for real this time. 

But JC just takes the money and nods his thanks, smiling. "That's great," he says. "I guess--you can call me, right? If you want to set something else up." 

"Yeah. I'll, uh. I'll be in touch." Lance smiles halfheartedly as JC turns for the door. "You were, um. That was, yeah, really amazing." 

JC stops with his hand on the doorknob and smiles back at Lance, his eyes unreadable. "Thanks, Lance." He opens the door. "See you around, man." 

After the door clicks softly closed, Lance winces. " _That was really amazing._ Way to go, loser." But God. It was. He's still reeling from what he saw, what JC was doing just fifteen minutes ago. He figured the guy was flexible, but that was... wow. 

That's not even the hottest thing, though. The way JC was looking at him... that's what Lance really can't forget. The way he sought Lance's eyes out, time and again. God. It was as if he'd wanted to make sure of the effect he was having on Lance. Not because he needed the reassurance, though. It was like he knew how hot he was and he wanted Lance to know it too. 

Lance knows. And more than that, he knows he's totally fucked. 

He forces himself back to the room and strips the bed, shoving the sheets right into the washer and making the bed up again as fast as he can. When he goes to the tripod to shut the camera off, he realizes it's off already. He certainly didn't take the time to turn it off before he left the room earlier. JC must have done it, and that sets Lance's mind going, wondering. He doesn't want to watch the whole thing again right now, doesn't know if he ever wants to watch it again, but he can't help being curious. He only debates a few seconds before plugging the camera into the TV and starting it playing just before the end of the video file. 

Shit. It turned out clear as day. JC's already upside down, and it's near the end, Lance can tell. Desire hits him like a brick as he watches JC lift his head slightly and tongue himself just before he comes. And then, oh God, as JC is coming onscreen, Lance hears his own low groan, offscreen. Now he stares at what he missed the first time, the way JC tilts his head back on the mattress and opens his mouth, catching some of the stuff on his tongue, the way he licks his lips like a cat after cream, eyes slanted toward the camera. Lance hears himself leaving the room, and watches as JC pulls his legs together, levers himself back down, then rolls onto his side, panting. His face is wet, his skin flushed. 

After a minute, JC sits up and reaches for the towel on the nightstand, running it over his hair and then wiping off his face and his chest. He towels off the rest of his body briefly, then arches his back in a catlike stretch. It doesn't take him long to get back into his clothes, moving with smooth efficiency in and out of the camera frame as he does. Finally, he sits on the end of the bed, and Lance can see him clearly as he leans down to put his shoes on. When he looks back up, there's a small, secret smile on his lips. 

Watching JC dress, seeing him move about the room like this, in private, seems more intimate than anything Lance filmed on purpose. It's not a show, it's just JC being JC, and that's something Lance thinks he'll probably never get to see again. And suddenly Lance wishes, so hard, that he'd never asked JC to perform, that he'd never gotten into a business relationship with him. So maybe he could've seen this part for himself. Maybe he could've had it for himself. 

*** 

The next morning Lance has to force himself to get up and go to class. Tuesday night was a total loss; he tried to watch TV, tried to work out, tried to get drunk, all with very little success. He even tried calling Chris (figuring _someone_ might as well get some amusement value out of this), but got no answer. In the end, it's the desperation of not wanting to spend all day with only himself for company that gets him dressed and out the door. 

He walks out at the end of Business Law just hoping the six pages of notes he took will make sense; he really couldn't say what the professor's been lecturing about for the last hour. Joey's waiting for him, as usual on Wednesdays. 

"Student union for lunch?" Joey asks. Lance shrugs. He's not really hungry, but what the hell. Joey looks at him again as they start walking. "Oookay," he says. "Let's see. It's not exam time yet, so you didn't just tank something in your major. It's not your family, or you wouldn't be here. Now, if I looked like you do, it'd be girl trouble, but you're exempt from that stuff. Right?" 

Lance sighs and glances over at Joey, then goes back to staring at his shoes as he walks. "I'm an idiot," he says after a minute. "Just... yeah. Grade A idiot. Fuck." He'd thought talking about it might help--that was why he'd called Chris--but now he's not so sure. 

"Aw, hell," Joey says, putting an arm around Lance and squeezing once before letting go. "It _is_ a girl. Guy. Whatever." Lance nods. "Well, let's get some food and you can tell me all about it." He laughs. "Okay, maybe you can leave out _some_ of the details." 

The cafeteria is busy, but not too crowded, and behind a supporting beam they manage to find a table that's a little more private than most. Joey digs into his burger and watches a moment as Lance fiddles with his BLT, pulling out a too-thick slice of tomato and then poking holes in it with one of the frilled toothpicks. 

"Okay, dude," Joey finally says. "Spill. What's up, and what're you gonna do about it?" 

Lance puts the toothpick down and takes a sip of his tea. "I don't know, Joe," he says. "I'm just... I fucked up. It was stupid, and--but I don't know what to do. If it can be fixed." 

Joey examines a french fry, then looks up at Lance. "As far as I know, you haven't been seeing anyone. Right?" Lance nods. "So... it's not that you cheated." Joey waits for Lance to acknowledge the truth of that before continuing, "Which is too bad, really, because you know I've got whole books of answers for _that_ particular fuckup." 

Lance gives a pained chuckle. "No. The whole concept of 'cheating' kind of assumes you're actually _with_ the person in the first place." He pokes at his sandwich again, and tries to put it into words. "There's just a guy I like, who I don't know very well, but I was hoping... you know, that we could... Well." He sighs. "I just don't think it's going to work out." 

"You talkin' about JC, man?" Joey takes a sip of his Coke. "Because I think you two could totally be together. He seems really nice." 

Lance frowns at his plate. "I can't, uh, I can't really say who I'm talking about. I mean, I do want to talk, but I... I just can't. Say." 

Joey looks at Lance quizzically. "You want to talk, but you can't say who. What the hell is going on?" 

"I just, I got interested in... someone. Somebody I met, you know, because of my business." He gives Joey a look. 

Joey raises his eyebrows in comprehension. "Oh, wait. You're sayin' J--I mean, _someone_ modeled for you, and you put the moves on him?" 

"No! God, Joey. No." Lance shakes his head, trying to block out the memory of how close he'd been to doing exactly that. "I don't know how you think I run my business, but... no." 

Joey shrugs. "Whatever, man. If I were doing that, but, you know, filming girls? I'd have a hard time keeping it in my pants." 

Lance laughs in spite of himself, leaning over the table a little. "You _always_ have a hard time keeping it in your pants, remember?" His smirk fades as he sits back again. "No. It wasn't anything like that. I just, I think I fucked up my chances with--this person. By having him do the videos." 

"Did you ask him out?" 

"No." Lance frowns at his lunch. 

"Then how do you know he's not interested?" Joey picks up his burger again. 

"It's--can you just imagine what this is like? For both of us?" Lance looks around briefly and lowers his voice. "I've _seen_ him, you know? Not just naked, but, like, in a sexual way." _Talk about understatement._ "Twice. It's kind of embarrassing now for him to be around me, I think." 

Joey nods. "I can understand that. But he's not the first guy you've seen like that, not by a long shot. And it seems to me like you're the one who's embarrassed. What's up with that?" 

Lance feels himself growing warm and takes a sip of his iced tea to cover it up. "Yeah. Well, I sorta... especially, like, the second time? I kind of... got into it a lot." 

"You horndog," Joey grins lasciviously. "Like, how a lot?" 

Lance ducks his head. "You don't really want the details, Joe." 

"Heh. No, you're probably right." Joey's quiet for a minute. "Do you think he knows you like him?" 

"Um. I don't think there could be much doubt," Lance mumbles. 

Joey laughs. "Oh, man. You got it bad." 

Lance just nods glumly. 

Joey finishes his fries and licks his fingers. "Okay, Bass, just chill out. Ever since I've known you, you've always gone for what you wanted, right?" Joey waits for Lance's nod before continuing. "You're, like, an inspiration to the rest of us. That's the one thing about Lance Bass: he's not afraid to grab the world by the balls and take a risk, you know?" 

Lance smiles a little at that. 

"So why are you acting so whipped, man? Just call him up. Tell him you want to start over. Right? Take him out to dinner. That's what I always do with Kelly after I fuck up." 

"And that works?" 

"Damn right it works," Joey grins. "Oops, which reminds me, I gotta motor. Kel needs a ride to work today." He piles his trash on his tray and picks up his backpack. 

_Yeah, right, just call him up._ Lance thinks as he clears his own place at the table. Well, why not? He's not going to tape JC anymore, no matter what else happens. He can't stand the thought of sitting behind that camera and watching again, when he wants so badly to be on the bed with JC. So the business relationship is over. If there's a chance for something more personal, he'll never know unless he asks. 

"Thanks for the pep talk, Joe," he says as they're walking to the exit. "I'm a little scared to be taking relationship advice from you, but it could be worse, right?" 

Joey grabs Lance in a loose headlock and gives him a noogie. "Fuck, yeah, man. If you don't call this guy, I'm gonna tell Timberlake you asked me for his phone number." 

Lance smacks Joey on the arm and twists away, but he's laughing as he leaves for his next class. 

*** 

It's Thursday night before Lance works up the courage to call JC. He tries Chris first, but gets voicemail yet again. "Oh, fuck it," he swears at last, and dials JC's number. 

JC doesn't hang up on him right away, which Lance figures is a pretty good start. Of course, he doesn't seem to have much to say, either. 

"So, did you want to set up another session?" JC finally asks, after Lance has hemmed and hawed for a minute or so. 

Lance's mouth goes dry. "Uh. About that. Um, both of your videos turned out great, JC. Really great." He still hasn't actually watched all of the second one, but he has no doubt it's even better than the first. "But I was calling--um, no. I don't want to do another one." 

JC is silent for a few moments. "Okay. So, I guess that's it, then?" 

"Oh, no. I mean, I just... I can't. JC, remember last Saturday, what I said? When, uh, when you were over here after the game?" _So smooth, Bass._

"You said a lot of things," JC says slowly. 

"Okay." Lance swallows hard. "Well, see, this is how it is. I'm really, um, interested in getting to know you better. But as long as we're filming, I--I can't. And I don't think you're comfortable with that either." 

There's a long pause. Lance isn't really sure what he hoped JC would say, but whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be coming. 

He takes a deep breath and plunges back in. "So, I was kinda hoping we could, I don't know, go to dinner or something. As friends. And then you could, you know, you could decide. Whether you wanted anything... more." 

Another pause, this one so long Lance starts to think maybe dating Justin would be the better option. But then, finally, there's something more than silence on the other end of the line. 

"Okay." 

Lance blinks. "Okay?" 

JC laughs, a giggle that doesn't fit at all with the image seared on Lance's brain. "Yeah. Unless you've changed your mind?" 

"No! I mean, no. I'd love--that's great. Great, really great." Lance nods eagerly, and then rolls his eyes at himself. Thank God JC can't see him over the phone. 

Silence. Then JC asks, "So... Did you have a time in mind? Or a place?" 

Shit. Jesus, could he be any less smooth? "Um. Uh, tomorrow? Is that--I mean, if you don't have plans already? Or Saturday, Saturday'd be fine too." He keeps talking, hoping he can make it better instead of just digging the hole deeper. "And, um, for where, what--what do you like?" He's trying to think fast, or think at all, really. Someplace nice, but not _too_ nice. He doesn't want this to seem like... well, like business. So City Grocery is out. "How about the Ajax Diner?" he asks. "Have you been there?" 

JC chuckles softly. "I haven't been anywhere, much. New in town, remember? So... wherever you pick is fine. That Ajax place, that's on the Square, right? I think I've seen it. I can meet you there tomorrow, if that's good? What time?" 

Thankfully, the first number that comes to Lance's mind is seven, rather than two, or something equally ludicrous. When they say goodbye and he hangs up, JC's soft "See you tomorrow" echoing in his head, Lance just slumps forward on the desk and rests his head on his keyboard for a minute. 

"I'm going to die," he mumbles. Then he sits up and takes a deep breath. "No. No more freaking out. Don't fuck this up, Bass." Talking to himself probably isn't a promising sign, but he figures it's better than just whacking his head against the wall. 

*** 

Lance knows he's not going to get any benefit out of studying the rest of the night, but business stuff doesn't take as much focus. He can handle routine things, processing new applications, answering e-mail. 

Except even that isn't routine anymore. Initially, he'd been responding to "Scott"'s fan mail with promises of a follow-up session in just a few days. But now... 

It's not just that he doesn't want to watch the video, edit it for posting. And "want" really isn't the right word there, anyway. What it comes down to, he finally admits to himself, after tweaking a response e-mail for 20 minutes and still not hitting "send," is that he doesn't want to post it. Doesn't want to share JC with the world. Which is insane, because the whole reason for making the video in the first place was to put it up. It's not like he does that for his own... whatever. 

Well, he can decide tomorrow. After he and JC go out, maybe then he'll have a better feel for what's going on. _Like, any clue at all._

*** 

Lance goes on dates. Chris's teasing notwithstanding, he's been fairly active since the two of them broke up. But on Friday night he's as nervous as a high school freshman before the homecoming dance. 

He changes shirts three times before he finds one he can stand to wear. It's a T-shirt in a silky green fabric, and he's been complimented on it more than once. He tucks it into his slacks and tells himself to calm down. That doesn't help much, so he pours himself a finger of bourbon before he heads out, to take the edge off. 

When he gets downtown, JC's already on the Square, sitting on one of the benches outside the diner in the evening breeze. He sees Lance crossing the street and stands up to greet him. 

"Hey, Lance." JC smiles, and Lance has to remind himself not to lose his train of thought. JC looks good in his navy button-down and jeans, his hair spiked up a little. 

"Hey, JC. I'm glad you could make it." They shake hands briefly, and Lance fights off a jolt of excitement when their palms touch. He forces his voice to stay even. "So, uh, how's the crowd?" 

The wait is only a few minutes, unheard of on a Friday night, except that this weekend's an away game. Soon they're seated beside a window at the front of the restaurant. 

JC likes the decor, commenting on the bold colors of the walls, the stylized art. 

"Are you an artist?" Lance asks after they order drinks. 

JC blushes a little, shaking his head. "No, not really, I just--well, sometimes I paint. A little. But I'm no artist." 

"Well, music is art, too." 

JC grins. "That's true." 

"What do you study, exactly? Voice, right?" 

Without even talking about it, they start over, almost as if they're meeting for the first time. At first it's hard for Lance to focus, to act as if they haven't--as if he hasn't seen what he's seen. But to his surprise, after a few minutes the images fade away, and the present takes over. Lance is happy that JC seems at ease. It's not hard to find things to talk about, and Lance learns about JC's family and how they moved to the deep south from Baltimore when JC was a junior in high school. He tells JC about his own family, how glad his mom is that he's stayed close to home. They talk about their classes, and how JC's settling into life in Oxford. 

Lance is actually startled when the waiter comes by with dessert menus. JC's been telling him about his voice teacher back in community college, and it seems like they just sat down. JC takes the menu from the waiter and smiles across the table at Lance. "I'm a sucker for sugar," he says, like that's some kind of failing in a guy who's built like he is. "Do you mind?" Lance quickly shakes his head. He's not ready for the evening to end, that's for sure. 

JC scans the menu thoughtfully. "You're not having anything?" Lance shakes his head again, and JC looks down, his lips curving. "Well, then I'll have to pick something really good, to tease you with." 

Just those few short words, and Lance feels his body heating. He shifts in his seat, trying to shake off the disorienting arousal. Then the waiter's back, and JC's ordering pecan pie with whipped cream, and Lance collects himself enough to say, "Just coffee," when the waiter turns to him. 

When JC's dessert arrives, though, Lance thinks he may have to excuse himself. First of all, JC doesn't even try to hide his pleasure. He's wide open, and Lance takes a sip of too-hot coffee to keep the dangerous thoughts at bay. 

"Oh, God, this is good." JC's eyes are half-closed, and the tip of his tongue slips out to lick a fleck of cream from his upper lip. "Lance, you have to try this. It's heaven." He slides the small plate across the table, offering. 

Lance has never really liked pecan pie, but he'd probably eat axle grease right now if JC gave it to him. He takes a small forkful and nods, smiling even though he can't really taste anything beyond _sweet_. "Good." 

JC laughs and shakes his head. "If that's all you can say, give it back. You don't deserve it." He pulls the plate back close to him and puts his hands around it protectively. "It's okay, honey, he just doesn't understand you." 

Lance can't help but laugh aloud. Somehow that moment of pure goofiness breaks the spell, and even though JC continues to eat with sensual enjoyment, Lance can watch him without feeling like he's going to splinter into a thousand pieces. He even dares to reach across the table to wipe a stray dot of whipped cream from JC's chin, feeling the warmth of JC's skin for a split second, then bringing his thumb back to his own mouth and licking it clean. JC's eyes widen slightly and he grins, tilting his head in what Lance hopes is approval, or at least acknowledgement. 

When the check comes, Lance has his wallet ready. JC leans forward too. "I can pay," JC says, but Lance shakes his head. 

"Please. I invited you. You wouldn't want my mama to think she raised me wrong, would you?" 

JC chuckles. "Okay, okay. Far be it from me to get between a man and his mama." 

"That's right." 

It feels so good. Just being with JC, talking and joking. And, yes, feeling that spark, that electricity when JC looks up through his eyelashes, or their shoulders brush as they make their way out of the dining room. And then, too soon, they're standing outside on the sidewalk. 

Lance knows what he wants to say, and he just says it, trying not to overthink it and get tongue-tied again. "Would you like to come over?" He takes a quick breath. "I mean. For a drink. Or--um. We could just, you know, talk. Or watch a movie." 

JC seems to hesitate a little, and Lance almost kicks himself. Is he pushing too hard? It seemed like, he _thought_ JC was having as much fun as he was. He opens his mouth to backpedal, just as JC answers with a quiet, "Yeah." 

Lance snaps his mouth shut again, and grins. "Yeah. Okay." 

"I mean, I was just thinking, could I invite you over. But I think my roommate's staying here this weekend, and it's really, um, small." 

"Do you live on campus?" Lance points the way to his Jeep, parked at the corner of the Square. 

JC rolls his eyes. "Yeah, in Stockard." It's one of the only high-rise dorms on campus. 

"Oh, no," Lance laughs. "The Zoo? I was there first semester of my freshman year. You must be one of the only upperclassmen in that place. I feel your pain, man." 

JC giggles. "It's not so bad. I'm busy with rehearsals and stuff a lot of evenings, so I'm not around much. And my roommate's pledging a frat, so he's out a lot, too. Most of the time." 

When they're strapped into the Jeep and Lance is pulling out onto the street, JC clears his throat. "So, uh, how'd you get involved in, you know, your business?" 

Lance grips the steering wheel a little tighter. Most people don't ask. Maybe JC's still trying to decide how he feels about Lance. 

"Well, it was when I was living in Stockard, actually," he says. "I didn't mind being on campus, but that dorm, it was just, I don't know. I need quiet to study, so I had to go to the library all the time, but I didn't have a laptop then, so that was a pain. I wanted to move out, but I didn't really have the money. I was working 20 hours a week at the bookstore, but it still wasn't enough for me to pay off-campus rent and buy books and groceries. And I don't want to graduate with a bunch of student loans." 

JC's nodding, Lance can see in the dim light from the dash. They'll be at his apartment soon. 

"Then I read this article in a business magazine, about people who were running these Internet businesses and making money, despite all the dot-coms going under. At first I was, like, 'Yeah, right,' but then it started to make sense. Most of them were people who were doing freelance work online to reach a wider audience, like writers and financial planners, stuff you need real training to do. But there was this one woman who was running a porn site, for straight men, you know, filming women solo. I'd never thought about doing anything like that, but then I started figuring out how it could work." 

"You started it when you were a freshman?" 

"Yeah, about halfway through my freshman year." Lance turns the Jeep onto his street. "I figure I can keep it going the rest of the time I'm here, and shut it down just before graduation. Presuming I have a job lined up. I want to go into entertainment management." 

"So it wasn't, like, your dream. To grow up and do--porn." 

Lance laughs abruptly. "Goodness, no. Are you serious? My mama would have a fit. And no, before you ask, she doesn't know about it. I'm not ashamed of it, you know, but that is something she _definitely_ would not understand." 

JC smiles at that. 

Lance pulls into his parking place, and then turns off the engine and releases his seatbelt. "Well, here we are." He grins over at JC, trying not to look nervous. But JC doesn't unbuckle his belt. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he's still thinking about what Lance said. 

"So you started the business, and then you moved out here?" 

Lance tells himself to relax, and sits back to talk a little more. He doesn't want to rush JC. Or, wanting isn't really the point. He can't risk it. "Yeah," he replies. "It's nicer than anything I could've afforded otherwise. But mostly I'm just glad I don't have to ask my parents for money." 

JC nods in understanding. "Plus, I guess you meet a lot of guys this way," he says quietly. 

Lance's pulse beats a little faster. "Well, I do, in a sense. But, JC..." he licks his lips and tries to think how to put it, "it's not, like, some kind of personal dating service or anything. I've gone out with maybe two of my models in the last two years, and only after the business relationship was over. Well, and Chris--I mean, Chris did a session for me right at the beginning, but that's the other way around, we were already together then. I never, um, I don't usually find myself attracted to the people I work with. I mean, yes, I can see that they're attractive, because why would I ask them otherwise, right?" He knows he's rambling. "But I don't, I mean, what happened with you, that was really... unusual." 

Lance wishes it were dark enough to cover his blush, but the parking lot is well-lit. At least JC is looking down at his own hands, folded in his lap. Lance makes himself sit still and wait, listening to them both breathing in the silence of the car. 

"Chris?" JC clears his throat. "Chris, um, modeled for you?" 

Lance nods. "Yeah. Back, even before I had this place," gesturing toward the building, "we shot it at his old apartment, I didn't have any capital yet, and he just said he'd do it, y'know, on spec." 

"Wow," JC says. "That's--that must've been weird." He laughs softly. "I mean, I don't know. It's all still kind of weird to me." 

Lance doesn't know what to say. What to do. "I guess," he finally tries, "it's just something you get used to." Or not, of course. But he doesn't want to think that. Not after dinner tonight. Not after JC said he'd come back here. 

There's silence in the car for another minute, and then JC looks up at last. "Yeah," he says. "I guess." He nods, maybe more to himself than to Lance. "Okay. It's... okay. I just, I wanted to understand. You know?" 

Lance nods, hoping, but trying not to let himself assume too much. 

JC continues. "To be honest, from the beginning, the whole operation was a lot less, um, sleazy than I expected." 

Lance chuckles. "Well, geez. Thanks, I think?" 

JC grins at Lance and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Want to go inside?" 

Lance smiles and opens his door. "Yeah, I do," he says, he hopes not too fervently. Still, _thank you, Jesus_ , he thinks as they make their way into the building. 

*** 

Inside, JC accepts a bourbon, but when they take their seats on the couch, he doesn't sit close enough to invite touching. The last thing Lance wants to do is move too fast, so he takes a sip of his own drink and tries to figure out how to look interested but not predatory. 

JC smiles and rocks the glass in his hand a moment, watching the liquid make patterns against the sides. Then he turns to Lance. "So, have you ever, you know. Been filmed?" 

When Lance realizes what JC means, he's grateful he doesn't have anything in his mouth. "Oh," he says, shaking his head. "No. No, I couldn't--I mean, just. Uh. No." He's always hated how easily he flushes. At least the lights are fairly low. 

"Why not?" JC settles into the couch a little. He looks comfortable, and Lance takes heart from that. _Someone_ might as well be. 

"Um." Lance takes a quick sip of liquor, hoping for inspiration. "I guess..." He can't say he's not good-looking enough. It'll sound like fishing, and besides, he's not built like JC, but he's had models before who weren't perfect. And he can't say he's too good to do something like that, obviously. "It just doesn't--it doesn't seem right, y'know?" he finally stammers. "I mean, I run the business side of things." It's not much of an explanation, and he knows it. 

"'I'm not just the president, I'm also a member,'" JC points out, but he's smiling, and Lance thinks it might be safe to laugh and move on. 

"Yeah, well," Lance says, shrugging. 

"It was, um. Interesting," JC says, his tone thoughtful. "I didn't expect--" He pauses. "I didn't expect to like it. I mean, I'm not planning a career change or anything..." 

Lance tries not to let his body react to that image. JC, doing real porn. JC, with another guy. At this rate his drink isn't going to last very long. 

JC's watching him, smiling faintly. "I think it was you," he says, his smile growing when Lance blinks. "I liked... I liked that you were watching. I liked that you liked it." 

_Liked it_ is a _very_ charitable description of Lance's reaction on Tuesday. "Um," he says intelligently, and JC shifts in closer on the sofa. 

"I think I'm going to kiss you now," JC murmurs. "Is that okay?" 

Somehow Lance manages a nod, and he thinks he only moans a little as they lean toward each other and JC's mouth brushes his, once, then again more firmly, press of warm, soft skin. "Oh," Lance breathes, fumbling his drink onto the coffee table. But before Lance can do anything more, JC's sitting back, putting his own drink down and standing. He's smiling, though. That's a good sign, Lance is pretty sure. 

JC tilts his head in the direction of the hall. "Sorry. Bad timing. Would you excuse me a minute? I guess I don't need to ask where the bathroom is..." 

Lance just sits there a minute after JC leaves, staring blankly. Jesus. One kiss, not even a kiss to speak of, and he's barely able to rub two brain cells together. 

The toilet flushes and Lance hears water running, then the door opening. He blinks hard, trying to clear his head, trying to figure out what to say or do when JC comes back. But instead of JC appearing from the hallway, there are just soft footsteps and the sound of another door. 

There's nothing down the hall but his bedroom and the guest room. Lance waits another second, but he doesn't hear anything else. It's kind of weird. JC wouldn't be going through his things, surely. On the other hand, if JC wants to take this to the bedroom, Lance sure as hell isn't going to argue. 

He knows that thought is overoptimistic bordering on ridiculous, but it gets him off the couch and down the hall. Once he passes the bathroom, though, he sees it's the guest room door that's open. 

"JC?" He pokes his head in. 

"Yeah," JC answers, from the corner where the camera's set up. "I hope you don't mind. I just wanted to look..." 

Lance comes over to him. "No, that's fine." He wants to go to JC, wants to touch him, get back to the kissing, but JC isn't even looking his way. 

"So, you just turn this on here?" JC's finger brushes the _record_ button, although not hard enough to start the camera. 

"Uh, yeah. It's really easy... but, uh, don't you want to go back to the living room?" 

JC smiles then, and shakes his head, reaching for Lance's hand and pulling him closer again. Closer, and then a little off balance, so Lance not-quite-stumbles forward, and-- 

_Oh._

From some distant place in his mind, Lance feels JC's fingers tighten on his hand as their lips touch again. Their chests bump together and JC's mouth is warm and sweet against his. Lance hitches in a breath and tastes bourbon, and sugar, and then JC's lips are parting and JC is kissing him, kissing him for real. 

It's so good. JC, fitted against him now, one hand holding Lance's hand tightly, the other trailing up Lance's side. JC's lips on his, kissing him, melting him, until Lance reaches up to hold JC by the shoulder so he doesn't just fall right down on the floor. 

When JC pulls away--too soon, much too soon--Lance sways forward a little, after him, and JC tugs Lance toward the bed. "You know," JC murmurs, "how you said we should go out, and then I could, um, decide? What I wanted to do?" Lance nods, and JC smiles. "I think I've made my decision." 

Lance tilts his head for another kiss. "Good," he purrs, and is rewarded with a flush of pink in JC's cheeks. But, to Lance's disappointment, JC doesn't close the space between them. 

"I want to do another taping session," he says softly, and Lance feels his stomach drop. 

"No," he says, disbelief and disappointment warring for priority. "No, JC, I want to--I thought--you--" 

But JC doesn't have that _Let's just be friends_ look. "I don't think you understand," he says, lacing their fingers together. "I do want to go out with you. Definitely." He leans forward, warm air and then the tip of his tongue teasing over Lance's ear. "And I don't want _you_ to tape _me_." 

At JC's first words, Lance can't help but close his eyes in gratitude, until he processes the second part of what JC said, and then he tugs on JC's hand a little, leaning back so they can see each other again. "You..." 

"Yeah." JC's lips curve, and his eyes twinkle, and he squeezes Lance's hand. Lance's brain is spinning. _No_ , he thinks, _I can't_. 

He speaks carefully. "JC. Are you saying that you want. You want me to--" If this isn't what JC's thinking, he certainly doesn't want to suggest it. But JC is smiling and nodding. "Oh, fuck, JC. I can't. I don't--" 

"Of course you can." JC's mouth is on Lance's jaw now, and Lance's knees buckle when he bumps up against the bed, JC following him down to sit beside him, hot breath mingling with hot words. "I want to. Want to see you, like that. Want to watch you." JC's fingers skate up Lance's back, into the short hair at the nape of his neck, and Lance can't help closing his eyes in pleasure. In surrender. He doesn't want to, doesn't know how he can, but he also knows he's not going to tell JC no. 

On the other hand, he doesn't have to give in _too_ easily. So he takes a steadying breath and shifts, pulling JC closer, stroking his fingertips over JC's face, turning slightly so their mouths meet again. This kiss is deeper than the last, hungrier. If JC wants to... watch him... then damn if Lance isn't going to do his best to make JC want the same way JC made _him_ want. And if that means getting them both going ahead of time, well, Lance really can't find too much to complain about in that. 

If he thinks too much, he'll freak out. He wants this too badly. Luckily, JC's pressed against him, and when Lance tries to ease both of them down on the bed JC comes willingly. The warm weight of JC on top of him pretty much rules out any higher brain function, and Lance moans, arching up to suck and bite at JC's lips. 

JC growls in response, grinding against Lance's thigh. Jesus, JC's hard, and Lance _knows_ what JC looks like hard; wants to know what that feels like, in his hand, in his mouth. In his ass. Lance skims a hand down JC's body, finding one flat nipple through the fabric of JC's shirt, sliding his thumb over it, smiling when JC shivers. 

JC kisses him again, hard and fierce, and then, just when Lance is starting to feel like if he doesn't get JC's pants off _right now_ he's going to be in actual physical pain, JC nips the corner of Lance's mouth, once, and sits up. 

Lance tries to pull him back. "What?" 

JC's breathing hard, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your turn," he says, pushing himself off the bed. 

No. Oh, no. Lance wants to pull JC back down with him. "Jesus. Can't we do that later?" Or never, really, but definitely not _now_. But JC just shakes his head and moves back to the corner, and Lance forces himself to hold still rather than going after him. 

It takes JC only a few seconds to adjust the camera. He pauses with one hand on the controls. "Okay?" he asks, waiting, though Lance knows there's only one answer he can give. 

The warmth in JC's voice and the desire in his eyes tug at Lance. He still wants to say no, or at least, a big part of him does, but he has to admit that part of him wants to do it, too. He wants to feel what JC felt, when Lance was watching him. 

He wants JC to feel what _he_ felt. 

He drops his head back on the mattress. "Okay," he breathes into the silence. 

There's another second's pause; then Lance hears the quiet click as the camera starts recording. Just that small sound, and he freezes. His thoughts, a moment ago, those were fantasy. This is reality. 

He stares up at the ceiling in sudden panic. _I can't do this. I can't._ But then his racing thoughts are interrupted by JC's voice, quiet from the corner. "Just take your time. All I want you to do is make yourself feel good." 

Lance almost laughs at the way JC's repeating his own lines back to him, and it breaks the spell; he can move again. He nods slightly, only a little shaky, and toes his loafers off, leaving them on the floor as he pushes farther back onto the bed. From the corner of his eye, he sees JC checking the camera monitor as he situates himself in the center of the bed. 

He's not really hard anymore, but he's still aching with want, JC's kisses echoing through him. He thinks about the press of JC's erection against his thigh just a few minutes earlier and feels himself stirring again. _The first minute is always the toughest_ , he tells himself, as he's told so many other guys in the past, and reaches for his belt. He unbuckles it slowly. "I can't believe I'm doin' this," he mumbles sheepishly, thumbing the button on his slacks open and unzipping them. 

"It's... uh, I really appreciate it." JC's voice sounds strained, and that gives Lance courage. As he reaches into the front of his pants, he's happy to find that his dick is already responding. He closes his eyes and just touches himself through his boxerbriefs. He thinks he can feel JC's gaze on his skin, and his body seems to heat even more. 

Stroking himself with one hand, Lance slides the other up under his shirt, pushing it higher on his belly so he can reach his nipples. He risks opening his eyes a bit and, looking out from under his eyelashes, he sees JC slide into the chair beside the camera, a hungry look on his face. 

Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that's good. Lance's cock jumps, thinking about what it felt like, him behind the camera, JC here on the bed. He sucks in air and stretches, hips pressing up to rock himself against the heel of his hand. 

His nipples have always been sensitive, and he's usually gentle with them, but remembering JC's first session, he tugs his shirt up higher, then curves his fingers and scrapes his nails back down. The sensation is sharp, hot, almost more pain than pleasure; his gasp is completely unforced. It's good, though, the way his nerves burn, and he does it again, his other hand rough on his dick. 

"Oh." JC's voice is soft, low. Lance takes a breath, his lips curving. He strokes himself again, twice, three times, rubbing his palm over the soft cotton, stretching his fingertips down to caress his balls. 

He's hard now, straining up against the fabric. He's not gonna last long, that much is for sure. JC might have enough restraint to hold back, tease himself for the camera, but Lance doesn't. No way, not tonight. He bites his lip as he lifts his hips to peel the briefs down, sighing at the cool air on his hot skin. The elastic is tight around his thighs, kind of annoying, but it would be too much trouble to kick it the rest of the way off, so he leaves it, turning his attention back to his aching dick. He's leaking already, and he rubs his thumb once over the tip, then lifts his hand to suck the slickness away. 

"Fuck," JC breathes, and yes, that's what Lance wants to hear. He meets JC's eyes, letting himself feel the need in them, then opens his mouth and deliberately, wetly flattens his tongue across his palm. 

"This is for you," he whispers as he reaches back down for his dick, and it's cheesy and it's porny and it's one hundred percent true. Then he wraps his fingers around himself and starts the strokes that he knows will bring him off in a matter of seconds. He slides his other hand down his stomach and lower, fingers tracing through crinkly hair to cup his balls. 

As he handles himself he remembers how he felt when JC was on the bed and he was in the chair, and gasps for air. _God._ He tries not to think about how stupid he must look, the faces he must be making as he pushes himself closer to orgasm. Instead, he looks across the room at JC, who's simply staring, now, his eyes dark and hooded with need. Lance can see JC's chest rising and falling sharply; his hands are on his thighs, gripping tight. Lance thinks he can even see the swell of JC's erection in his jeans, and he feels a spark catch at that, a shock of heat behind his balls that grows into a rush of energy that he couldn't stop if he wanted to. 

He lifts his hips as he begins to come, growling low in his throat and stroking down hard as his stomach and chest are spattered with sticky heat. He hears JC swearing softly across the room, and thrusts again and again into his fist, his head thrown back on the mattress. JC's eyes on him, the camera, they seem to magnify the experience, make him feel it more than ever before. He's panting so hard that he's nearly whimpering by the time he finishes, and his hand falls slack in the mess on his stomach. "Oh, fuck. God. Fuck." 

The room is quiet for a second, just the sound of Lance's harsh breath, the blood pounding in his ears. His body shudders with an aftershock of pleasure, and he inhales sharply, stifling a moan. A moment later, there's a soft click. JC's stopped the camera. "Fuck," JC echoes, then silence again. 

Oh, Jesus. The rush of orgasm is starting to fade, and when Lance moves his hand the wetness on his skin is clammy. He swallows, staring up at the ceiling. Trying to figure out what to do next. 

He was wrong. All those times, telling the guys that getting started was the hardest part; it isn't. This is. Of course, in a normal session he'd have left the room by now, given the guy privacy to clean up. But JC's just sitting there, and Lance's skin is burning. 

Lance swallows, takes a breath. Reaches over to find the box of tissues on the nightstand. He wants to say something, but can't think what. He thinks he'd probably choke if he tried to say something sexy, so he just closes his eyes and wipes himself off. Praying. And then, finally, JC clears his throat and gets up. 

"How do I--" JC says. "You need to. We." Lance drops the sticky wad of Kleenex in the trash and turns to face JC. He can feel how red he is, his face and probably everywhere else. But JC sounds... like Lance probably sounded, after watching JC. At least Lance hopes he's reading him right. 

"What?" he asks. 

"Playback," JC says. "Is it, do I just--" 

Fuck. Oh, God, not that. Lance doesn't want to see, to hear-- But the setup's simple enough; even without Lance answering, it only takes JC a second to get the display going on the TV, a blue screen showing, just waiting for _play_ to be clicked. 

Lance wants to sink through the mattress and disappear. And then JC's next to him on the bed, sliding down to lie beside him, kissing him. _God_ , kissing him. Lance shifts, reaching up to pull JC closer, kissing JC back with equal parts hunger and leftover panic. JC's just as desperate, and yes, this is good, so good. JC's still hard, rocking against him. The denim of JC's jeans is rough on Lance's bare skin, but he isn't about to complain. 

"So hot," JC's whispering. "So fucking hot. I almost... yeah... fuck, wanted you so much. Want you." His hands slide cool over Lance's heated skin, trailing prickles of sensation. 

Lance huffs a soft laugh against JC's mouth. "You got me," he murmurs. 

JC licks at Lance's mouth, another deep, searching kiss. Lance's hands go to the buttons of JC's shirt, and JC lifts up to give him easier access. They both groan a little at the touch of skin against skin, and JC tugs Lance's tee the rest of the way off, tossing both their shirts to the floor. 

"God. You were..." JC presses Lance to the bed and kisses him hard. "Been wanting to... yeah, since..." Whatever he's trying to say is lost in their kisses. He reaches down then, still kissing Lance, and pushes Lance's shorts and slacks lower, down his legs. When they're tangled around Lance's ankles, JC pushes with his feet, and Lance helps, and a second later they're off. "Mmm," JC hums, leaving Lance's mouth to kiss his jaw, his neck. "You have to see." 

And then he's gone, reaching across the gap between the bed and the dresser to press _play_ on the camera. The blue TV screen flickers and comes to life, and Lance just wants to hide his face in the pillow and die, rather than watch this. But before he can say a word, JC's back, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to the head of the bed. JC settles back against the wall and pulls Lance into the space between his legs, wrapping his arms around Lance's waist and holding him close. For a second, Lance lets his eyes drop closed and luxuriates in the touch, pressing his back to JC's chest. Then, "Look," JC whispers in his ear, tightening his arms around Lance. "Look at yourself." And Lance looks up and sees himself on the screen. 

For a split second it's like looking at a stranger, like any other video he might have shot. The guy on the bed reaches for his belt. _He looks nervous_ , Lance thinks automatically, and then he hears himself say, "I can't believe I'm doin' this," and everything clicks and he's blushing hot, his whole body. 

It's awful. He looks stupid, sounds stupid. It's not sexy at all. And God, he wants to get away, just run out of the room, but there's JC behind him, holding him, and he can feel JC's erection pressing against his lower back. He squirms a little and JC gives him a squeeze. "It's okay, just watch. You're so hot." JC rests his chin on Lance's shoulder and turns briefly to kiss him just below his ear. "I want you to see." 

Lance watches uncomfortably as he starts touching himself onscreen, one hand sliding down into his pants, the other slipping up inside his shirt. Behind him, JC kisses a path down the side of Lance's neck, murmuring quietly against his skin, "Want you so bad." Lance sighs, arching into the touch. He'd be grateful for just about anything that could get his mind off the image of himself on the TV screen, but this is about the nicest distraction imaginable. JC's fingers tease patterns over Lance's stomach and chest, and when Lance on TV scratches his fingernails down his chest, JC thumbs one of Lance's nipples gently. "So sexy, Lance. God." Lance shivers. 

Lance sees himself heating up onscreen, finally pushing down his shorts and--fuck--there's his dick, on camera. Thick and hard and so obviously wanting. It's actually kind of--oh, God. He's getting turned on again. And it's not like he could hide it, lying naked in front of JC the way he is, and sure enough, a second later, JC's fingers wrap around him. 

Lance's head drops back to JC's shoulder. It feels so good. JC touching him. Real, not fantasy. He could lie here all night like this. 

Except real-not-fantasy means he's not the only one involved. And more masturbation--even if someone else's hand is doing the job--isn't what he wants right now. 

Lance on the screen is groaning, sounds that make Lance flush with embarrassment, knowing what he'd see if he looked in that direction. But that's not important. "Please," he murmurs, shifting in the circle of JC's arms, turning so he can cup JC's erection through the fabric of his jeans. 

He's afraid for a second that JC might object, but JC just sucks in air, his eyes heavy-lidded but focused on Lance. 

"Please," Lance repeats, making it a question this time, as he puts his fingers to the button of JC's fly. JC nods, barely more than a blink, but it's enough for Lance. His fingers are clumsy, but he gets the button open, eases the zipper down over the swell of JC's cock. 

JC moans softly when Lance's fingers caress him, only a thin layer of cotton separating skin from skin. If JC is anywhere near as turned on from watching Lance as Lance was watching him, he's got to be on the verge of pain by now, and the dampness under Lance's thumb bears witness to JC's desire. "Want you," Lance whispers. "Wanted this." 

JC nods again, an uncharacteristically jerky motion, and when Lance carefully lifts the elastic to free him from his briefs, JC raises his hips to help him slide his clothes the rest of the way off. 

It's not new, obviously. Lance has seen JC naked before. But this is different. Watching on film, or even just across the room, Lance couldn't feel the smoothness of JC's skin. Couldn't drink in the heat from his body. Couldn't smell, couldn't taste. "God," Lance says, just looking one more long second before bending his head to lap at a flat nipple. 

JC arches under him, and Lance smiles against JC's skin, baring his teeth and sliding them over the tiny nub. He finds JC's other nipple with his hand, thumbing it before rolling it between two fingers. 

"God," JC's saying. "God, yes, please--" It might be the sweetest thing Lance has ever heard. 

He wants to keep touching, teasing. JC's so responsive, Lance wonders how close he could get him, just like this, just from nipple play. But now isn't the time. He prays there'll be a later, lots of laters, but for now he kisses first one nipple, then the other, and then shifts down on the bed, kneeling between JC's legs. He cups JC's balls in one hand, presses a kiss to the base of JC's cock, then lifts the shaft away from JC's body to take it in his mouth. 

"Lance," JC groans, and there's slick salt on Lance's tongue. Lance breathes in deep, drinking in JC's scent, clean and exotic. He wants to experience JC with every sense. JC twists his hips slightly as Lance tongues the head before moving down farther to fit his lips around the shaft. JC answers with a gasp and then Lance feels fingers sliding into his hair. 

Lance has had plenty of practice giving blowjobs. Still, he wants this one to be perfect. He slides his tongue down along the shaft, taking the head as far back in his mouth as it will go. He starts a rhythm with his mouth, his lips, up and down, while supporting and stroking JC's balls underneath with one hand. He slides his other hand up JC's thigh and feels the strength there as the muscles flex under his fingers. 

The sounds JC's making are ringing in Lance's ears, gasping moans when Lance sucks hard, and what he can only call whimpers when he pulls back a little before each new downthrust. _God. Yes._ This is what Lance has been wanting, ever since he saw JC for the first time. JC, filling his mouth, writhing and helpless in Lance's arms. _Yes._

JC may have lasted a long time in his second session, but Lance can tell by the erratic motion of his hips that this is going to be different. Sure enough, it's not long before JC's practically bouncing off the mattress and Lance is hanging on, refusing to be dislodged. JC's fists close in Lance's hair just before Lance feels the shaft swelling in his mouth, and then JC's jerking uncontrollably and Lance is swallowing, swallowing. 

God, it's incredible. Sex in general is good, of course; sex with someone he cares about is amazing. Lance hasn't had much of either lately. But this--JC desperate in his mouth--Lance feels powerful, grateful, blessed. JC stays arched up a long moment, and Lance savors every second, one hand under JC's back for support, feeling the shocks ripple through his body. Finally JC sags back onto the mattress, panting, and Lance gentles his mouth around JC's softening cock. Not yet willing to give it up entirely. 

"Oh, fuck." As JC's body relaxes, his hands unclench, and he strokes Lance's head apologetically. "Shit. I'm sorry, man. I don't usually--" 

Lance grins, giving JC's cock one last lick before raising his head. "It's okay. It--I liked it. I'm not really all that frail a flower, you know?" And yeah, that's an offer, and judging from the look in JC's eyes, it's one that went over pretty well. 

"That's good to know," JC's saying, and when he strokes Lance's back, urging him up next to him, Lance doesn't argue. JC leans up to kiss Lance's mouth, lick gently over pleasantly bruised lips. "Wow," JC murmurs, his eyes dark with arousal. His fingers slide down Lance's chest, a soft caress. "I really hope you're gonna let me return the favor." 

Yeah, like Lance was going to say no. JC's hand moves lower, and Lance's flesh is more than willing. He rocks his hips up into JC's touch, sighing happily. He's not ready to stop kissing, though, so he tangles his fingers in JC's hair, purring his pleasure into JC's mouth. "Sweet," he whispers, and he means how JC tastes, how he feels, how the whole night feels. Right this minute, all the knots in his stomach over the past week, all the teasing he knows he'll be in for from Joey and Chris, he's grateful for all of it if it made this possible. 

He's hot where JC's touching him, JC's fingers branding his dick, drawing electricity from his spine and out through his skin. JC's tongue is licking flame against his mouth and throat. It's heaven. "What do you like?" JC whispers, and Lance thinks, _You._

After a moment, Lance manages to come up with words. "This is workin' for me," he murmurs. But then something does occur to him, and even though the last thing he wants is to stop, once it's in his mind, he can't get rid of the thought. He kisses JC again, long and deep, letting the pleasure flow through his body before covering JC's hand where he's stroking Lance's cock, stilling him. 

JC looks at him, confused, and Lance can't resist dropping one more quick kiss onto his mouth. "I just," he says, trying to get his heart to slow, just a little, "I want. I don't, um, this room." He gestures with his head. "It's for... business. Not for. This isn't where I... y'know." He feels like an idiot. Sex is sex, there's nothing wrong with this bed, but it just doesn't feel right. Not for JC. Not for tonight. He takes another breath and sits up, urging JC up too. "Please," Lance says. "I want--I mean, I know it's stupid, but I want--come to my room? Please." 

JC's smile begins as a tiny grin playing around his lips. "Okay. That's, um. Yeah. That's not stupid. Thanks." By the time he stops talking, he's beaming. Lance feels himself grinning right back, and he doesn't even try to stop. 

As he pulls JC from the bed and leads him down the hall, hand in hand, Lance hears Joey's words in the back of his mind. _You've really got it bad for this guy._

That, he thinks, is possibly the understatement of the year. 

*** 

The morning sun slanting through the blinds wakes Lance before nine. It only takes a second for last night's details to come rushing back. JC's mouth was just as amazing as everything else about him, and Lance blushes as he wonders whether his downstairs neighbors heard him coming last night. 

JC doesn't seem to have minded Lance's enthusiasm. He's still sleeping just a few inches away. 

Lance's throat goes dry as he looks at JC and remembers the rest. Pulling JC back up into his arms after the most mindblowing head of his life. JC twining their fingers together, moving over Lance to straddle him. JC whispering heated words against Lance's mouth, talking about what he wanted to do and how he was going to make Lance feel. 

They hadn't gotten beyond talking, though, when JC's words and kisses started coming more slowly. Finally he sagged to Lance's side with a long sigh. "Tomorrow, okay?" He punctuated the words with one more soft kiss, then wrapped long arms and legs around Lance in a full-body hug. "Sleep now." Lance was taken aback, a little, but he closed his eyes and listened to JC's steady breathing, and soon enough the long day caught up with him and he found himself drifting off. 

Now he looks at JC, still asleep, his eyelashes dark against his cheeks, hair curling a little on the pillow. Lance has never known anyone who could switch so quickly from arousal to sleep, but then, he's never known anyone like JC before. He thinks there will be a lot of other secrets to learn, if he gets the chance. He really wants to. He hopes it wasn't just a one-time thing. JC said _tomorrow_. It's tomorrow now, Lance thinks. 

He'd be content to simply watch JC sleep, but all that tea from last night is catching up with him, so he pushes himself out of the bed as gently as possible and pads into the bathroom. He pisses, rinses his hands and his face, and heads back out into the bedroom. JC hasn't moved, and Lance debates sliding back in next to him. He doesn't really want to leave JC alone for a second, but coffee sounds awfully appealing, too, so he pulls on some shorts and goes out to the kitchen. 

Lance can cook. His mother made him learn, simple stuff, before she'd let him go away to college. Once the coffee's brewing, he thinks for a minute about bringing JC breakfast in bed. French toast maybe, or just eggs and bacon and juice. But knowing how to cook doesn't do him a lot of good when the only things in the refrigerator are a quart of milk, a six-pack, a couple of limes and assorted condiments. He settles for pouring two cups of coffee, one black and one with milk, since he doesn't mind it either way. As he's putting the milk away he remembers that Chris always accuses him of making the coffee so strong it melts the spoon, so he drinks a little off the top and adds some more milk, just in case. 

He hears the toilet flush as he's picking up the mugs, and when he gets back to the bedroom, JC's just crawling back between the sheets. He turns when he hears Lance come in, and Lance's breath catches. JC looks... soft. Still half-asleep. Hair rumpled, eyes heavy. Lance wants to drop the coffee on the floor and lick JC until they're both too spent to scream anymore. He settles for holding out a hand. "I made coffee," he offers. "D'you--is milk okay?" 

JC sits up a little to take the mug from Lance's hand. He inhales deeply before taking a sip and his face crinkles as he smiles. "Thanks." He has the longest eyelashes Lance has ever seen. Lance wants to touch them, touch the tissue-thin skin of JC's eyelids, trace the bones of his face. JC clears his throat and Lance realizes he's been staring. "Um, are you gonna..." JC gestures to the bed next to him. "Or, I mean--if you have something planned, I can just--get out of..." 

Lance shakes his head quickly. "No! Oh, no. I--" He puts his coffee on the night table and slides in next to JC, drinking in JC's warmth. "I don't," he says, "I mean, there's nothing I'd rather be doing." He feels like a complete idiot, but JC's smiling again, and Lance lets himself reach out, put his hand to JC's chest, stroking smooth skin. 

"Yeah?" JC shivers, then turns away a second to put his own mug down before sliding his arms around Lance and kissing him, warm coffee-flavored lips and tongue. 

Lance can hardly wrap his brain around how sweet it is, touching JC, kissing him. _I could get used to this really fast_ , he thinks before he can stop himself. He slides his hands down JC's body, past his waist, to hold him by his naked hips as they kiss. Through his shorts he can feel JC hardening rapidly against him again. JC doesn't pull away, but he doesn't start groping back, either. 

"Mmm," JC finally hums into the kiss. "You taste good." 

Lance can't help but smile, although it makes it harder to keep kissing. "I'll take that as a compliment to my coffee-making skills. Chris always says my coffee's way too strong." 

JC pulls back a second and smiles enigmatically. "I think it's perfect," he says, before kissing Lance again. "It's probably not the coffee, though," he adds. 

"Yeah?" Lance feels the blush rise up his chest to his cheeks. 

"Yeah." 

Lance grins. He can't help it, he feels like laughing. Dancing. "You should be careful," he says. "Complimenting a guy's coffee--you don't know where stuff like that can lead." 

JC's eyes sparkle. "Well, I know where I _hope_ it's leading..." 

Lance does laugh at that, and he realizes it's the first time he's laughed in bed since he and Chris were together. He tugs JC closer and they kiss again, heat sparking between them. Still, a minute later, JC pulls away once more. Lance tries not to groan, but JC gives him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Sometimes I can't, y'know, shut my mind off?" 

Lance nods slowly, trying not to look too worried. 

"So, um," JC continues. "You said it's been awhile since you and Chris broke up, right?" 

Lance blinks, a little surprised. "Yeah, like a year or so ago." 

"Was that hard? I mean, were you guys serious?" 

Lance thinks a moment before answering. "I guess we were as serious as Chris ever is about anything. We were together for over six months. Which is longer than I'd ever been with anyone before." He looks at JC. "Breaking up was kind of tough at first, but we're so much better as friends. I think we were both glad it happened in the end." 

"So you were, um, exclusive?" 

Lance shrugs. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. We were sort of on-again, off-again for a month or so before we broke up, and while we were off I went out a couple of times with other guys. But yeah, when we were together, we were really together." 

JC nods, and he looks like he's thinking. Finally he seems to come to some kind of decision. "Thanks. You know, for telling me about it. I'm not really trying to get all up in your business." He tightens his arms around Lance's waist. "It's just, I mean, this probably sounds pretty stupid, but I don't usually--I'm not really into casual sex. Not that, I mean--I don't think there's anything wrong with it, if that's what people want. It just doesn't work so well for me." 

Lance runs his fingers gently down JC's hip as he considers his answer. It's pretty obvious what the "right" answer is, but he wants to be honest, too. "I guess, well, I don't mind casual sex," he finally says. "Safe, of course. Um, just for the record. But I'd rather be in a relationship. I mean, you know, when I meet someone I like." He feels the blush rising on his chest and hurries to finish his thought. "I guess deep down I'm really an old-fashioned guy. I mean, I was raised that way." 

"Despite the whole internet porn entrepreneur thing," JC teases. 

Lance takes that as a good sign. "Well, yeah, despite that." He likes JC's laugh, his smile, the way everything seems so warm and inviting with him in the bed. Which makes JC's next words even more unexpected. 

"I'm old-fashioned too, you know. I don't, uh, I don't really believe in fucking on the first date." He hitches his hips up and his hard dick presses against the front of Lance's shorts. 

Lance licks his lips. Talk about mixed messages. "Um. You don't?" 

JC smiles wickedly. "No. In fact, it's a definite policy with me." He pushes forward again, and Lance has to bite his lip to keep from groaning. He's confused as hell, and he thinks he may have to break something if they stop now. But if this is some kind of test, he's going to pass it if it kills him. 

He clears his throat. "Uh, maybe we should, um. Get up. Go to breakfast, you know?" He dreads having to push himself out of the bed, but he gets ready to do it. 

JC pulls Lance closer and leans over to whisper in his ear, "I'm just glad the first date was last night, you know? So it's over now. Because I don't think I can wait any longer for this." 

It takes Lance's mind a second to catch up with JC's words, but he's laughing by the time JC finishes, and he pushes JC over onto his back. "Oh, you fucking _tease_." He kisses JC hungrily and feels him shaking with laughter as well. "Do you know how much I've been wanting you?" 

JC pulls Lance up on top of him, trying to stifle his giggles. "I'm sorry. Really." 

Lance holds him down and nuzzles his neck. "Seriously, man. Do you know?" He lifts back up a little, so he can look down at JC. 

JC's eyes are still smiling when he answers softly, "Yeah. I think I do, after last night." He reaches up to touch Lance's cheek. "The whole time you were, you know... I just wanted to come over there and... yeah." 

Lance rolls his eyes. "Last night was nothing compared to what you did on Tuesday. What were you tryin' to do, kill me?" As he talks, he trails one hand down JC's side, smooth skin like warm silk under his fingertips. 

JC lifts his hips a little so their erections grind together again. "I just wanted you to notice me." 

" _Notice?_ " Lance gasps as JC's hands go to Lance's waist and push at his shorts. Lance lifts up to help, and he starts to tell JC just how much he _noticed_. "Believe me..." 

JC interrupts him. "And last night was hot, man. In case you didn't realize exactly how much I liked it." 

Lance is blushing again at the compliment, but it doesn't even matter, because JC's got his shorts halfway down his thighs, and finally they're rubbing together, skin on skin. Lance feels the slick head of JC's dick trapped against his stomach, and fumbles a hand between them to catch it with eager fingers. JC hisses at the touch. 

"Oh, fuck..." Lance mumbles, writhing against JC, fingers tightening on JC's shaft, "oh, please..." 

JC's kissing him again now, holding him close, and he whispers hotly against Lance's mouth, "What do you want, baby? What can I do?" 

Lance knows what he wants, and although he doesn't know what JC likes, he's past figuring out how to put this politely. "Fuck me?" 

JC's still a moment, and Lance is so close he can actually see JC's pupils dilate, watch the arousal flare through him. JC growls, his fingers hard on Lance's hips. "Fuck...yeah. You want--?" He kisses Lance hard, and Lance welcomes it, takes it, JC's tongue promising what--Lance hopes--his dick will be doing very soon. "Yeah," JC sighs again. "Wanted you... want you." 

Lance moans, shuddering as JC trails bites down his chin and throat. "Stuff's in the--oh, God. Nightstand. Please." It's already hard to breathe. JC wants him. JC watched him, saw him... naked. Exposed. And he wants him. It feels so damn good. 

JC's digging in the drawer, plucking condoms and lube out and tossing them on the mattress. Lance skims his shorts the rest of the way off and then turns on his stomach, stretching out, thrusting once against the sheets and feeling the friction shock through his whole body. "This okay?" he asks, arching up a little. And yeah, he knows he has a good ass, and damn right he wants JC to look. To want. 

"God," comes the reply, and Lance smiles, shifting again. 

JC moves then, sliding down, and his mouth is on Lance's ass, biting one cheek, then sucking, licking. "So fucking gorgeous," he murmurs. "So sexy." He licks his way up, kissing Lance's hip, his waist, and Lance shivers. 

"Please," Lance says again. JC's hands are on him now, strong, squeezing, and Lance can feel, can imagine how JC will feel inside him. He drops his head, pushing up into JC's touch, offering himself. 

"So beautiful," JC breathes. "God, that's sweet." He nuzzles Lance's skin, whispers of warmth and flashes of pleasure sparking from his lips, the rasp of stubble. "Gonna make you feel so good..." 

"Yes--" Lance gasps. "God--fuck--don't tease." Only he doesn't mean it, and from JC's low chuckle it seems like he knows that. 

"What else do you like?" JC's mouth is moving over Lance's cheek, dipping lower to kiss the top of his thigh, and Lance wonders, hopes, for just a moment before--yes--JC spreads him open and licks, hot and wet and perfect, and all Lance can do is try to hold himself still. Try not to thrust back so hard they both fall off the bed. 

"God," he moans. "God--yes--oh, fuck, JC, that's so good." 

"Yeah," JC whispers, the word buzzing against Lance's skin. "Knew you'd like that." His tongue strokes up again, from just behind Lance's balls to the base of his spine, then back down, and Lance can't help pushing up, just a little. "Greedy," he hears JC say, and then JC's tongue is in him, slick and deep but not deep enough, it's so good and Lance just wants more more more. 

He realizes he's saying it out loud, but that doesn't really seem like a good reason to stop, not when JC's growling, tongue-fucking him deeper, thumbs holding him spread wide, blunt fingernails digging into Lance's cheeks, the not-quite-pain only adding to how _fucking_ good it feels. 

The combination of sensations is overwhelming: JC's tongue sliding into him over and over; the prickle of JC's stubble against his ass. The heat where JC touches him; the cool of the sheet under his body. Without even meaning to, Lance is grinding against the bed. The smooth cotton feels rough against his oversensitized dick; at this rate it won't take him long to get off. But he's only thrust twice when JC's hands tighten, pressing his hips to the bed, holding him still. Lance whimpers in frustration. 

"Uh-uh, Lance. Not without me." JC's whisper is hot against Lance's skin, and it's immediately punctuated by JC's tongue curling back into him, dirty and sweet, teasing, demanding a response. 

"Then come _on_ ," he whimpers back, spreading his legs a little wider and pushing his ass back towards JC as much as he can with JC holding him down. Lance is loving this, no question, but he knows that if JC keeps it up, he's going to come in a matter of seconds. He wants JC inside him first. "Come on, _come on_..." 

Finally JC licks higher, into the small of Lance's back and then up his spine. "Whatever you say, sugar," he answers as he reaches the back of Lance's neck, and Lance can _hear_ it, can hear the smirk in his voice, and he feels fireworks exploding inside his brain. 

The crackle of a condom wrapper has never sounded so good before. Lance tightens his fists in the sheet beside his head and closes his eyes, listening as JC pops the lube open and slicks up his dick. Finally, finally, JC's fingers stroke down between Lance's cheeks, smooth and slippery. Lance shivers as JC touches him gently but insistently, fingertips dipping inside for just a second before pulling away again. 

It's so good. Lance groans, trying not to rock against the sheets. He's so close. "Do it," he begs. "C'mon. I'm ready." 

JC hesitates a moment. "You sure?" 

It's fast. Lance knows that; it'll hurt, some. But that's what he wants. He needs that pain to keep him grounded, keep him from exploding the second JC gets inside, if not sooner. All that's too hard to say, though, so he just nods. "So fucking ready... please..." Lifting his hips in invitation, he's rewarded with a growl from JC. Lance smiles at that, burying his face in the mattress. 

"Oh, yeah," comes JC's throaty sigh. "Such a fine, fine ass." Lance feels JC shifting behind him, lining up. And then JC's hands are on him again, spreading him, but this time instead of that agile tongue Lance feels something bigger, firmer. Pressing. Pushing. Burning, and Lance takes a breath, relaxing his shoulders, feeling the heat prickle through him. Slowly, the head of JC's dick slips inside him, stretching him open. 

Lance braces himself against the mattress as JC begins the long slide into his body. It's the perfect combination of heat and friction, and Lance feels every single inch sparking pleasure through his nerves. JC doesn't stop, doesn't pull back, just pushes deliberately, gradually in, letting Lance adjust as he goes. JC's panting, Lance can hear him. JC's tight grip on Lance's hips doesn't loosen, fingers digging into Lance's cheeks as JC fights for control. 

It's breathtakingly good. Lance wants it to go on forever, just the simple act of JC moving into him, filling him, but at last JC hips nudge against Lance's ass and he's _in_. Only then do JC's hands slide up to hold Lance by the waist, and Lance is grateful, so grateful, to whatever deity or cosmic connection is allowing this to happen. 

"You good?" JC asks, sucking in air. 

Lance nods. Good. Fucking amazing. He shifts his hips, feels JC shudder. 

"You're gonna kill me," JC breathes. 

Lance huffs softly, not quite a laugh. "We'll die happy." 

"Fuck yeah." And then JC hitches his hips back and starts moving. 

Oh. Oh God. Lance's mouth is open; he's moaning every time JC thrusts down into him, every time the lightning flickers up his spine, but he really doesn't care what he sounds or looks like because _fuck_ , this is good. 

JC moves like magic, strong and powerful with a little shimmy that makes Lance see stars. After a moment his words add another layer to the assault on Lance's senses. "Fuck," JC purrs. "Your ass. Your skin. Like cream, I want to lick you, every inch of that beautiful body." He talks in rhythm with his strokes, hitched gasps of pleasure punctuating the words. 

"God," Lance groans. It's too fast, he's not going to last, and he doesn't want this to be over yet. 

In the end he doesn't have a choice, but it's okay, because when the orgasm hits him, pulsing through him in waves that almost but don't quite coincide with JC's thrusts, JC slows but doesn't stop, leaning low to murmur more hot words in Lance's ear--"Yeah, so gorgeous... the sounds you make, pure sex, so fucking hot, gonna make me explode"--and just keeps going, filling Lance again and again, making him shudder with the continued stimulation until his whole body is buzzing, not just cock and balls but everything, his shoulderblades and the backs of his arms, his scalp to the soles of his feet. He thinks his _eyelashes_ are gonna come by the time JC's pace quickens, his perfectly balanced movements starting to stutter. 

"Oh," JC pants. "Oh, fuck, you--so _fucking_ good--" He bucks forward, hard, driving Lance's hips into the mattress; again, a third time, and then Lance can feel JC's whole body tense, his cock swelling even further as he comes with a moan that Lance feels as much as hears. 

When JC goes still, draped over him, Lance can feel the shivers running through his own body. Nerve endings still sparking, every part of him trembling with shocks of pleasure. He's not sure if he came a second time, or if he's just died and gone to heaven, but if heaven involves JC plastered to him with sweat, whispering "Oh God, oh God," against his skin, Lance thinks that's just fine by him. 

He isn't sure how long it is before JC shifts, groaning, and pulls himself free of Lance's body. The air is cold on Lance's damp skin, and he shivers, rolling over onto his back to move out of the wet spot. Wet _ter_ spot, anyway; he's sweated so much his hair is damp with it. His muscles protest as he moves. 

JC turns from throwing the condom away and runs a hand down Lance's thigh. "You okay?" he asks. "That was. Um." 

Lance nods. "I'm good. Great." Some kinds of hurt are worth it. "Wow," he says, turning on his side and catching JC's fingers with his own. "I just want to go on record, I liked you a lot even before the fuckin' amazing sex." 

"Yeah?" JC smiles, stretching his back, reaching up for the headboard. "And how about now?" 

Lance laughs softly, grinning in appreciation. "Now I have to hope you're planning to stick around for a while, because I think you may just have ruined me for average guys." 

JC's smile grows wider. "Does that mean you're inviting me back for a second, uh, session?" 

Lance winces. "Why do I get the feeling I'm _so_ gonna regret not just asking you out the very first time I saw you, and forgetting all about wanting you to model?" He buries his face in the pillow. 

JC laughs and rubs a hand through Lance's sweaty hair. "Oh, I don't know, it's been kinda fun so far. All of it." He leans closer to Lance and whispers in his ear, "I enjoyed your performance." 

Lance turns his head a little and peers out at JC with one eye. "That's just because you don't have anything to compare it to." His voice is muffled in the pillow. "If you could see that second video you made... Jesus, man, how'd you ever learn to do that, anyway?" 

JC smirks and rolls his eyes. "It's not like I took lessons. I'm just, you know, limber. From dancing." He chuckles. "You know what they say about dogs, _If I could reach, I'd never leave the house_. Well, it's not that great, really--takes too much concentration for you to really be able to let go--but it _does_ feel pretty interesting. And," a wink, "I kinda thought you might like the show." He lies back on the bed and cushions his head on his hands. "But what did your members say?" 

Lance shuts his eyes tight for a second. He doesn't have to tell JC anything, really, and maybe he should just tell JC that he doesn't feel comfortable talking about his business like this, but the truth is, he thinks he wants JC to know. Taking a deep breath, he props himself up so he can look down into JC's face. 

"They didn't say anything." JC looks surprised, maybe even hurt, but before he can respond, Lance continues. "Actually, JC, maybe I should've told you sooner... I decided not to use the second one. It was just too... I don't know." He feels his face heating. "I didn't want strangers jerking off to it." 

JC blinks at him for a few seconds. "But. You paid me for it, extra and everything. You're not gonna put it up?" 

Lance shakes his head and looks down at the sheets. "Nah. I was fixin' to, you know, and I know it'd be... huge... but I just--it didn't feel right to me." 

JC looks honestly taken aback. "Lance. I should--you have to let me..." 

Lance lifts a hand to stop him. "I don't want to hear anything about you giving the money back, okay? You fulfilled your side of the contract. You were paid for performing, regardless of what happened to the tape later. I wouldn't feel right otherwise." 

JC looks thoughtful, and he seems to hesitate a little before speaking. "Well, okay. I mean..." He lays a hand on the side of Lance's face and his blue eyes soften. "You really didn't want anyone else to see it?" 

Lance shakes his head again, still embarrassed. 

JC pulls him closer and nuzzles Lance's neck. "You're a nice guy, Lance." A smile creeps into his voice. "Plus, you're really fucking sexy." 

Lance shivers as JC's whisper brushes across his skin. "Okay, just so you know, um, flattery will get you lots of places," he mumbles. 

JC giggles. "Will it get me breakfast?" 

*** 

Lance's grocery situation hasn't improved since he first woke up, so breakfast means showering, and that means a bit of a delay. 

"Ever been rimmed in the shower, dude?" JC asks as the water's heating, and Lance feels his knees start to buckle. "How big's your water tank?" 

How thick are the walls is more the question, Lance thinks. Just the idea is enough to prickle the hair all over his body, and the bathroom _echoes_. 

"We'll save that for later, huh?" JC says. "I'm starving." But that doesn't stop him from kissing Lance senseless while massaging shampoo through his hair, thumbs stroking Lance's temples as JC's tongue strokes inside Lance's mouth. 

Even with the detours, by a little before noon they're in the Jeep headed for Waffle House. The streets of Oxford shine bright in the late morning sun, and Lance feels like singing. 

He couldn't have ordered up a better way to start the weekend. He hopes, although he tries not to think about it too hard, that this is just the first of many Saturdays like this. He almost blushes as he remembers how happy he felt digging a new toothbrush out of the linen closet for JC. _Don't be stupid_ , he admonishes himself half-heartedly. At least he managed to wipe the moonstruck look off his face by the time JC turned his way. 

Beside him now, JC's grinning as the wind ruffles his hair. He's wearing one of Lance's T-shirts, and his own jeans from last night. Lance shifts a little in his seat at the thought of JC pulling his jeans up over his naked ass. "Nah, man, thanks, but I draw the line at wearing someone else's drawers." Lance couldn't help but shake his head and laugh, remembering what JC _hadn't_ minded doing that morning in bed. 

The Waffle House parking lot is pretty full, but Lance finds a place near one end. JC slides quickly out of the passenger door, winking across the car at Lance. "Gotta keep our strength up, right?" 

Lance doesn't even have words to thank God with at that point. He just closes his eyes a second, then quickly follows JC toward the entrance. They've only gone a few steps when a familiar car catches his eye. "What's Chris doing in--" he starts to mutter, when the restaurant door opens and the answer appears. Lance starts to laugh as Nick stands and holds the door for Chris, who ambles on through, apparently oblivious to the gesture. 

"So," Lance calls as the two approach, "I guess now I know why I've been getting voicemail all week, and no calls back." 

Nick just grins, but Chris turns his head a bit, embarrassed. "It wasn't--I didn't--" 

"I kept him kind of busy, dawg," Nick drawls, and Lance watches the blush creep up Chris's neck to his cheeks. 

"I guess so," he replies, smirking. It's not often that he gets to be the one teasing Chris. He might as well make the most of it. 

"So Chris, you drove five hours to come here for the weekend when the team's away? And you're staying in the _dorm_? Must be serious." 

Chris crosses his arms and scowls at Lance. "We got a hotel, fuck you very much." He glances at JC. "Looks like you've been busy too. I'm glad to see you can actually talk to JC now without needing CPR." 

"He can do a lot more than talk," JC says softly. 

Lance just laughs, and a moment later Chris joins in. It feels so good, having this conversation now, today. Not that Lance wanted Chris back; he's been over it a long time, and they really are _much_ better as friends. Still, it's always easier to let go all the way when you've got the sexiest, sweetest, most gorgeous guy in town standing next to you. When every muscle in your body is aching in the best possible way, and you have every reason to believe the afternoon will include a repeat performance. When you're so happy you think you might burst, and you want all your friends to be that happy too. 

"Seriously, man, I was starting to worry when I couldn't get you on the phone," Lance says to Chris, "but now I see you were busy with other things." 

"Oh, shit," Nick says suddenly, his eyes widening. "I was supposed to call you this week, too. Shit. I'm so sorry. I, um--" He ducks his head a little, just for a second. "I want to do it. I mean, if you still think I'd..." 

Lance nods, though he's having to work hard not to sneak a look at JC, gauge his reaction. "Of course." He wishes he'd had more of a chance to talk to JC about this stuff, about how JC feels about it, but he's not going to shut Nick down. If it's a problem, he'll deal with it later. "Just let me know," he says, nodding toward Chris, "when this joker's not occupying your every waking minute. We'll set things up." 

Nick's gorgeous when he smiles. "Cool. I think--I think I'm gonna need some extra cash to cover my phone bills." He casts a worshipful glance in Chris's direction, then turns back to Lance with a sly grin. "You were right, by the way. Justin was so pissed that you asked me." 

Lance chuckles. "I knew it. Well, let him learn a little patience." 

Then Chris turns to JC. "Listen, man. Sorry about last weekend. I didn't mean to freak you out or whatever. I was just bustin' Lance's balls." 

JC shrugs, grinning, his hands in his pockets. "No problem, dude; we're cool. Everything worked out okay." 

Lance steals a glance at JC and tries not to beam. He turns back to Nick and Chris. "Uh, listen, we're starving. So we'll catch y'all later, okay?" He shoots Chris a meaningful look. "Call me." 

Chris waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. I will." Then Nick catches him by the hand and leans down to whisper something in his ear. Chris listens, nods, then turns back to Lance. "Hey, you guys want to get together later and watch the game?" 

Lance shrugs, turning to JC. "I dunno," JC replies. "Maybe. Um, unless we get... distracted." His eyes slant over to Lance, and the look feels like a touch. 

"Give us a call," Lance suggests, trying to ignore the little shiver of pleasure he gets from the word _us_. 

"Yeah," JC agrees, smiling. "And if we don't answer, well... maybe another time?" He sounds so casual about it, and oh, this day just couldn't get any better. 

"Cool," Nick says, and pulls Chris towards the car, still holding his hand. Chris flings a wide-eyed look over his shoulder and waves goodbye. 

Lance is still chuckling when he and JC slide into a booth a minute later. Tucked into the front corner of the Waffle House, farthest from the door, it's the most private spot in the place, although that's not saying much. Every few minutes, the servers shout orders to the cook across the tiny seating area. 

Lance orders his usual eggs, bacon, and grits. JC orders like a starving man. "Ham and cheese omelet, sausage, pecan waffle, and hash browns. Scattered, smothered, and covered." He glances at Lance, then turns back to the waitress, smiling. "No, wait--hold the onions. Oh, and a large orange juice, please." 

"Sure thing, honey. We'll put some meat on those bones, huh?" Lance cracks up at JC's happy nod. 

When she leaves, Lance leans forward a little. "I gotta admit, I think your bones are just about perfect the way they are," he teases, his voice low. 

JC grins back and rolls his eyes. "I think you're biased." 

After Lance's coffee and JC's juice arrive, JC takes a long sip and then sits back. "So, you and Chris get along good, huh?" 

"Yeah. I mean, he tries on a regular basis to make my life hell, but I know he does it out of love." Lance shakes his head with a grin. 

JC laughs softly. "I can see that." He plays with his unused straw for a few seconds before saying, "That's really nice. I mean, that you're still friends. I don't really, uh. Have anybody like that." 

"No?" Lance sips his coffee and leans forward on his elbows. "How come?" 

JC shrugs. "I guess I've just been dating the wrong guys. I was pretty serious about someone in high school, you know how it is when you're sixteen, but just before graduation he decided he didn't want to be gay." JC says it lightly, but there's still hurt under his words, and Lance wants to find the guy and make _him_ hurt. Of course, he's grateful, too; that guy's stupidity is his gain. "Then, my first year of college I kinda fucked around some," JC continues. "I mean, that's what you're supposed to do, right?" 

"But you didn't like that." 

JC shakes his head. "Not really." He stops to think. "I just... that's not for me. I mean, like I said, if it works for other people, that's cool. And I can see the appeal, and all. It's not like I don't like gettin' off. But I like to be, you know, focused. When I'm with someone." 

_Focused_ , Lance thinks, his mouth going dry. _Yeah_. 

"So anyway. I think it's pretty cool that you and Chris are, like, friends." 

"Yeah, me too." Lance smiles back at JC. "We're pretty lucky." 

"And I guess Nick is gonna model for you?" 

Lance swallows, a little nervous at the change of topic, but he answers right away. And Nick did bring it up. "Well, sounded that way, huh? I talked to him about it last Saturday at the party. I wasn't sure he'd be interested." He doesn't know what else to say. He wants so badly for things to work with JC. But... this is how he pays his rent. It's not like he could just stop doing it, even if he wanted to. 

"Sounds like he's got a little extra incentive." 

"Justin, you mean?" 

JC nods. "I know him. He's in _Guys and Dolls_ , too; he's--you turned him down?" 

"Well, not exactly," Lance replies. "Justin's 17, that's the thing. He'll be 18 in January, he says. Though I gotta tell you, I'm gonna check his ID _carefully_ , man." He grins wryly. "He's been putting on the hard sell since he found out about it. I think he wants to do this just a little _too_ much." 

JC smiles. "Talk about motivation," he says. "I bet Nick doesn't get to one-up Justin too often." 

"I doubt anybody does," Lance laughs. "Though, with Chris in Nick's corner, I'm thinkin' Justin might be getting a little more education than he bargained for." 

JC raises his eyebrows. "You mean--" He pauses when the waitress arrives with an armful of plates. Soon the table is laden with steaming dishes, jugs of syrup, bottles of ketchup and Tabasco. Lance's stomach growls, and he and JC grin at each other as they dig in. 

Conversation stops for a few minutes while they focus on their breakfast, Lance salting his grits as JC drowns his waffle in syrup. After the waitress has refilled Lance's coffee and moved on, JC swallows a bite of omelet and picks up where he'd left off. "What you were saying, about Chris and Nick... I mean, none of my business, but--is Chris into, y'know, public stuff?" 

Lance blinks, trying to reconstruct what he'd said. "Public--oh, you mean, about Justin?" He laughs. "No, no, that's not--I just meant, Chris considers it his God-given duty to take guys like Justin down a peg. 'Striking a blow for the imperfect,' he calls it. But he won't be, y'know. Gettin' it on with Nick while Justin's in the top bunk." He thinks a second. "Well, not with the lights on, anyhow." 

JC laughs, nodding. "I have to say, I'm glad you don't live in the dorms. I hate to think what I might find myself doing, y'know, if we both had roommates." He looks at Lance and his expression turns from humor to lust so quickly and completely that Lance nearly drops his fork. 

"You okay?" JC asks, reaching perilously across his waffle to steady Lance's hand. Only a second's contact, and JC's eyes are sparking with amusement again, but it leaves Lance even more turned on. 

"I'm fine," he growls, still feeling flickers of JC's touch on his skin. "But if you want to finish your breakfast before I drag you out of here, you'd better eat fast." 

The words sound stupid coming out of his mouth, but JC doesn't laugh, just turns his eyes down to his plate. Lance can see him smiling, though. "I like it when you're bossy," he murmurs. 

"I'm not bossy," Lance says. JC arches an eyebrow, and Lance chuckles. "Okay, maybe a little. But, um. In this case, I think I'd call it, more like... poor impulse control. Which. Around you, I guess I..." He stops. Even today, even this instant, it's still pretty damn embarrassing. He picks up his coffee, then puts it back down untasted. "You know," he says, forcing himself to look at JC while he says it. "The other day. When you, when I... I'm--I've never--" 

JC smiles, slow and wide. "Hey, it was a compliment, right?" He glances to see where the waitress is, then reaches under the table to touch Lance's knee, stroke it for a second with his thumb. "I told you, I wanted you to notice me. Well, trust me, I couldn't have asked for a more flattering response." 

Then JC picks up his knife and fork again, but that brief touch was enough to let Lance relax a little. "You nearly got a lot more than flattering," he admits. "Jesus, JC. When you--" Just thinking about it has him half hard again. He lowers his voice to just above a whisper. "I was this close to just comin' over there and tongue-fucking you, then laying you on your back and fucking you for real." He can't believe he's talking about this stuff, sitting here in the middle of the restaurant. What was that about poor impulse control? 

JC swallows slowly. "Why didn't you?" he asks, voice almost as quiet as Lance's. "If you--you didn't put the tape up anyway, so..." 

Lance raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know if you'd want me to," he points out. "I don't generally, y'know, just jump on guys without some kind of invitation." 

JC chuckles. "Yeah. I mean, I'm glad to know that. I guess, it was just, for me... I don't usually get naked with a guy unless I'm pretty damn interested. It must be different, though, when you're. Filming." 

And there it is again. The elephant in the living room. Lance takes a breath. "Is that gonna be a problem?" he asks. "I mean. Honestly. Honestly, JC, I don't normally--it's not even that I don't get involved with guys I tape. I just don't even find it, y'know. Arousing. Most of the time, anyway. And when I do, I'm just so busy being glad, because I know if I like it, it's bound to be really popular. But it's not... personal?" 

JC purses his lips. "It's a little weird," he admits. "But," he continues, "I wouldn't have gone out with you last night if I wasn't willing to give it a try. Or, I wouldn't have stayed, anyway." 

"Okay." Lance tells himself to calm down. "Okay. I'm glad you've, um, thought about it some. And if you feel uncomfortable or whatever, I really hope we can talk about it." 

JC smiles down at his empty plate. "Okay," he says. He seems to be finished talking about Lance's business, for now at least, because when he looks back up, his eyes are laughing. "I meant it, you know. What I said this morning? I have a policy against sex on the first date." 

Lance smiles back at him. "Policies like that are meant to be broken." He nudges JC's knee under the table. "I have a policy too, you know. 'Hands off the talent.'" He chuckles at JC's raised eyebrow. "Yeah, I know, some good it did me." 

JC laughs as he leans back and stretches a little. His borrowed T-shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of flat belly. Lance tries not to stare, but JC catches his eye and winks. "And did you mean what you said? About what, uh, what you wanted to do last Tuesday?" 

Lance's mouth goes dry. He doesn't trust his voice not to crack, so he nods his assent. 

JC barely even whispers, but Lance hears him loud and clear. "It's not too late, you know." 

When the waitress walks by a second later, Lance practically falls out of the booth trying to get her attention. "Check, please," he croaks, when she turns back to stare at him. 

JC's smiling as they leave the booth. Lance is happier than he can remember being in a long time. They bump shoulders as they wait at the cash register and then turn towards the exit together. 

_Hands off the talent._ Lance hears it in the back of his head when they're climbing into the Jeep. He almost has to laugh. 

For a smart guy, he can be pretty dumb sometimes. 

  

[end] 


End file.
